#where he can come across as generic if taken at face value | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kanansdume · 2 years

Text

I’ve been thinking about the way the phrase heard in Obi-Wan Kenobi, “Only when the eyes are closed can you truly see” applies to Kanan Jarrus after he’s been blinded and how it’s best shown in the differences between his two sacrifices.

Season one is all about Kanan choosing to accept his new destiny as a master for Ezra, accepting that despite his own unfinished training, he has to step up for Ezra’s sake, and choosing to follow the Jedi path himself even if he doesn’t feel ready for it, choosing to make that commitment to and for Ezra.

Kanan’s dealing with a lot of trauma from his past and having to figure out the true meaning of being both a Jedi and specifically a Master with a Padawan. He has to let go of a lot of it in order to understand the reality of this relationship, in order to even be able to completely MAKE this commitment.

The biggest trauma we know he’s dealing with is Depa’s death, and his reaction to it. He considers himself a coward for running, for not staying to fight at her side and die with her. He blames himself, in part, for her death. He hasn’t come to terms with her sacrifice because he’s lost himself to the guilt he feels over it and it impacts nearly every relationship he has, but particularly the one with Ezra. It’s Hera who initially believes in Ezra and pushes Kanan to test him and bring him into the crew, and even after Kanan does that, he tries to find other teachers for Ezra because he’s not fully committed.

In the season one finale, he goes into that mission as usual for them, thinking that whatever obstacle they come across, they’ll deal with it together, they’ll make it out together, they’ll find a way because there’s ALWAYS another way. But he then realizes, there isn’t. He has to stay so they can run. So he does.

And in the end, he doesn’t yet have to face the final price for that, his crew, his family, come through and is able to rescue him in time. And he’s still struggling with that guilt even though he’s now made the same choice Depa once did for him, he still struggles with what happened to her.

In season two, we see Kanan struggle with Rex, with becoming a soldier again for the Rebellion, with being able to trust that he trained Ezra well enough to not fall prey to the Sith. All of which hits pretty hard on that same trauma from before, but extending it to the experience of the war itself and his own unfinished training due to the interference of the Sith. He had to run from Depa and, in order to survive, he ran from himself. He ran from who he was, from who he should’ve been able to become. And he spends this ENTIRE SHOW finding his way back to that person, figuring out how to become that person in this new galaxy. He’s taken that first step by following in Depa’s footsteps without having to pay the price yet, but he’s still trying to see with his eyes open.

And then at the end of season two, he’s literally blinded by a Sith.

And over the next two seasons, we see a change in Kanan. He’s more centered, more calm, more stable in general. He can’t literally see, so he has to rely entirely on other senses and the Force itself. He has to trust the Force now, not just with the people he cares about, but with HIMSELF. He’s able to do quite a lot just supplementing his senses through the Force, but there’s more than one reference to the fact that Kanan can’t see something in front of him and even more background moments where we see someone having to touch Kanan’s arm or shoulder to signal him to duck or get down or something along those lines. Kanan has to learn, not just how to trust himself, but how to trust everyone else and how to trust the Force itself.

By the time they go to Lothal for the last time, by the time Hera gets captured by Thrawn, Kanan knows who he is. He’s walked that path, he’s made his peace with his past, he understands the value of what they’re fighting for, he doesn’t blame himself for running so long ago. And when told what path he has to walk, the last path he’ll ever walk, despite all he’s going to have to sacrifice to do it, he understands. He accepts that this is the choice put in front of him that will help the most people.

His eyes were pretty forcibly closed for him and in the aftermath of that, he learned how to see himself, the people around him, the galaxy, and the Force in an entirely new way. His relationship with Ezra grows stronger because of it, as does his relationship with everyone else. Kanan learns to trust, he learns how to accept the path handed to him, he learns to see further ahead than just the next step, he learns to see a bigger picture.

And when he walks into that final mission, when he goes to rescue Hera, he does so with the knowledge that he’s not going to finish it. He does this with the knowledge that he may never get what he wants from Hera, that he may never hear her say she loves him. He does with the knowledge that he’ll never be able to knight Ezra, just like Depa could never knight him. He does this with the knowledge that he won’t be able to help bring an end to the Empire, he won’t see peace restored. He knows, from the beginning, what all he’s going to sacrifice. He doesn’t necessarily know when, or how, just that it’s coming. And he accepts that, knowing that he’s giving his family their best chance at accomplishing everything they want to accomplish. Knowing that his death grants them more time they wouldn’t have otherwise. They might not ultimately make it, either. They may not see that end any more than he will, but his death gives them a CHANCE, and that’s enough. Depa’s sacrifice gave Caleb Dume a matter of seconds to escape, and it saved him. She couldn’t have known whether it would even work, what her Padawan would go on to do and become, but she knew her death gave him time, and that was enough.

Kanan finally understands.

His eyes were closed, but he could finally see the way ahead.

#kanan jarrus #caleb dume #star wars rebels #depa billaba #ezra bridger #rebels #kanan #depa #ezra

102 notes · View notes

lehdenlaulu · 2 years

Text

Okay, I need to reread it when I'm not half-asleep or in a hurry, but... some thoughts about Soul Taken:

This was a slightly odd book.

Mostly because, well, I completely understand that recovery is rarely linear, and even old trauma messes with your mind in unexpected ways sometimes, but I feel like Mercy was kind of unusually out of sorts and paranoid in this book. And I'm really not sure if we were supposed to see it that way or not. I mean, some of it was clearly the spider fae spike thingies messing with her, but I'm not sure if that was supposed to explain everything.

For example, I sadly enough kinda predicted that the whole 'one step forward, two steps back' dance with her attitude towards Stefan would be back sooner or later, but this felt like an almost exact repeat of what happened in Frost Burned: she suddenly does not seem to trust him for no obvious reason whatsoever, despite having recently made clear progress with him and ending the previous book on 100% amicable terms. And sure, I could headcanon that almost bipolar attitude in a number of ways, but it honestly comes across as author indecisiveness at best and bad continuity at worst at this point.

Like I said, I know recovery is rarely linear and trauma can mess with you in unexpected ways, but the part where she suddenly has Stefan nightmares she likens to Tim nightmares felt especially uncalled for (especially since I seem to recall she chose the bond with Stefan in the immediate aftermath of the Tim thing and it was something that actually made her feel better because it was something she chose, unlike certain other bonds I might mention) as did the pretty much entirely new implications that Stefan has ever used the bond against her or made her do anything against her will. I was, as a Stefan fan, honestly kinda mad about those.

And the fact that I'm not sure whether the reader is supposed to take that at face value or chalk it up to Mercy being paranoid and generally an unreliable narrator for a number of reasons, which has been established in text before particularly through other POVs.

Speaking of which, on the other hand... We got several things I didn't think we ever would, based on previous statements by the author:

We got Wulfe POV??

We got Stefan POV???

Vampires have souls now?!?

And personally, at least, those were very welcome additions. Wulfe and Stefan's narrator 'voices' both felt right and added more to their characters, as did the 'flashbacks' in the Mercy-dreaming-Stefan's-memories bits. Both we and Mercy got a better picture of the Italian vampire posse and their backstories and dynamics. But while I liked it that this book ended kinda as the echo of the ending of the previous book, with Mercy apparently being on good terms with both Stefan and Wulfe, it all feels kinda contradictory, you know? Something doesn't flow right about the plot/the vibe/the characterizations/all of it.

And once again, I'm not sure if I should blame Mercy or the author.

I've come to at least headcanon that part of Mercy being an unreliable narrator is that she's sometimes downright wilfully in denial about things she does not want to think about or confront. Like it's entirely plausible to me that there are aspects about her bond with Stefan that scare her much more than the idea that he could use it against her, which is why we apparently have to establish certain things like it being a) a two-way thing b) consensual c) unbreakable precisely because it's consensual over again, and why she sometimes randomly freaks out and starts treating Stefan as a potential threat.

Or maybe the author just really does not know how she wants to handle this. She's had several opportunities to toss the plot, and once or twice she even seemingly has only to bring it back, but like I said in the previous post, in the last book one of those opportunities was presented and she could have chosen to get rid of either Stefan or the bond and yet she chose to keep him and have Mercy reinforce the bond to save him (and tell him he's invited in her 'soulscape', and seriously consider calling him to her side against Adam's beast). But in this book, we're apparently pretending that development did not happen. Or Mercy is, at least. *sigh*

The overall situation was stressful for her in this book, admittedly. There was the whole situation with Sherwood, aka Bran's Big Bro Has Entered The Chat, and even Zee's behavior was causing her grief and adding to her paranoia. I do feel for our girl, for apparently having come to a realization that everyone she cares about is dangerous and a potential threat, her husband included.

But yeah. It was a little weird, and I hope things will make more sense in the next book.

#Mercyverse #Mercy Thompson #Patricia Briggs #Darna talks books #Darna reads

39 notes · View notes

theangryjikooker · 10 months

Note

Hi, I've come across your blog recently and I must tell you that I love it since you're one of the few sane people in this fandom who appreciates the bond between the boys without overanalyzing often baseless and delusional theories.

Although I love their bond and think there is dating potential there, I'm also leaning towards the opinion that Jikook may be single nowadays. However, I'm also leaning towards the opinion that they MAY have had something in the past, possibly something casual like occasional hookups since I believe (sexual) attraction between the two does exist (emphasis on may since this is an assumption like everything else as we have a glimpse into the 1/1000 of their private lives), and this is based solely on two incidents - the hickey and the Rose Bowl one. The Rose Bowl one I can overlook, but the hickey one is difficult for me to put within the scope of pure friendship (especially when it comes to their/other memebers' reactions in the clip to the entire thing).

So my question is - how do you perceive these two events (and I'm sure you've already got this question, but as I'd already said, I've only come across your blog recently). :)

Have a great day!

Me: I’m going to take a break and stay on Twitter.

Also Me: No.

Listen, I can’t make up my mind. I like the idea of being able to say things that would have me nailed to a cross “out loud” without being burdened by other people’s sensitivities and not having to explain myself either, but now I have (5) social media accounts, and I am overwhelmed. I don’t want to talk about it lol. I’ll approve a few people eventually, but the less eyes the better.

Anyway, neither here nor there.

Hey, anon—thanks!

I don’t agree with you on whether they were once dating or fooling around, but it’s well-known here that I’ve never thought that at all. You do you; many others would agree with you, too.

My opinion on Rose Bowl and the “hickey” is that they could be looked at in two different ways. I really don’t care for what most Jkkrs think about them, but really the bottom line is that even if those two events were taken at face value and nothing deeper, it’s unique behavior either way.

Outliers exist in every aspect of life. There are generalizations that apply to a population, culture, generation, gender, sexuality, personality types, etc., but those generalizations will never apply to every single person. And it’s especially so in human behavior and social interaction.

Just because you or “most people” wouldn’t do [action] with a friend doesn’t mean that those people don’t exist. And sure, it would absolutely make sense that this generalization might apply to Jungkook and Jimin when they do something out of pocket, but they’re not only not the average Joes with a normal upbringing, the biggest factor is that RPS is inherently unusual, unsolicited, and toeing the line of disrespect. It’s why RPS is widely frowned upon. It comes with the territory of being in the public eye, but that doesn’t mean it’s acceptable or encouraged by those being shipped.

It’s the fact that they are real people, who never asked to be shipped in that way, that explains why I will never assume that anything they do or say means anything deeper than how it looks on the surface—or if, in the case of the “hickey,” Jimin says he was getting dizzy and bit Jungkook as retribution, then that’s really all it was (also, I can believe that, but I have an anecdotal experience that allows me to accept it as is).

The only time I’ll ever entertain narratives is if there’s legitimately no context for it or there’s a dissonance between the context and what’s actually happening; for example, the Feb 2021 live where Jungkook continues staring at Jimin long after he’s done talking or doing anything interesting. Yes, I’ll say that it’s a little suspect and explain why, but that’s generally as far as I’ll take it (and I think I’ve even tried to play devil’s advocate with it too, but it’s a little weak). But as I say all the time, these moments are incredibly few and far between.

In the case of Rose Bowl, Jimin was very obviously emotional and Jungkook was comforting him. I personally wouldn’t suck my friend’s ear, but as I had passively mentioned in a really old post, I watched this compilation of idols doing the same thing to one another, and I remember thinking at the time that the ear fixation among idols was baffling. I tried to find it again, but it doesn’t seem to exist anymore (it was a much older video that I found ~2 years ago). After seeing that, I was more convinced that Rose Bowl could’ve easily been a comfort thing—weird, but comforting.

I’ve had time to ruminate over it, and I can also see how that action might actually be grounding to someone.

Regarding these two events, I can understand why shippers would think they could indicate something deeper between Jikook. Where I start to have a problem is when shippers abuse their platform and start talking so assuredly for Jungkook and Jimin. Shippers are not omniscient, but they pretend to be and they talk like they are, and those are the ones I don’t respect at all.

Mind you, I’m not stopping anyone else from flouting those boundaries if that’s how you have your fun, but I won’t have anything nice to say about people who do this, and that’s just my opinion.

Anyway, thanks for the ask. This was longer than intended, but I am tagging this post for future reference so I never have to talk about it ever again. ✌🏻

#TAJ asks #curious anon #jikook #kookmin #jikook rose bowl #jikook hickey

5 notes · View notes

ithekingofweeds · 2 years

Text

A Tribute To A Titan🧡

I woke up this morning, to a community post of Technoblade by molzeysketch. After a quick, curious skim through of the comments, I searched up his name.

I was greeted with a barely 5 hour old video. The last one of them all.

I reeled, and processed and cried and mourned a man I didn't even know, and I have been for the past 8 hours now, while pondering my own last message to him.

I am aware that to him, logistically, I am nothing more than a number amongst more than 10 million others. Sentimental ly, I may have held the value that a dog across the ocean has to someone who says they like all dogs even though they've never met anywhere near even a percent.

And to me, he was not a friend, I didn't know him. I know what he showed. But what he showed is adored. He was a comforting voice when silence was too loud and music too much. He was a good laugh on days where smiling seemed pointless. And he and his friends were a small glimpse of the fact that mutual love and respect does indeed exist in full.

I mourn for his family, and for his friends, having lost their loved one. It'll never be the same, and I hope they can keep eachother safe. Let them grieve for now, everyone. I mourn for the Minecraft community as a whole, for loosing a Greater King. I for mourn our community, for loosing a beloved creator.

Cancer is a retched thing. It's ravaged my family for generations, but it's only as of late that I've pondered how I actually feel about it.

It doesn't hate, it just takes. It has no mind that maliciously tell it to, yet it steals and hurts and kills.

I dont like how its fundamentalized in language. You don't fight it. Fighting implies some form of equal enemies, it implies skills and strategies and leeway to improve. Sure, saying "you survived your battle with cancer" sounds wonderful, but what of the opposite? Do not tarnish the memories by claiming they are a loser in a fight that has no contestant except for maybe your own body for unknowingly, accidentally creating a cancerous cell. If anything, consider it a draw, as the cancer died with them.

But Techno won. He won so, so much. He wrote so himself, he would do it all again even with a hundred offered chances. He won his friends, his community, his success, everything.

A legend, a king, taken far, far too early. All the what ifs that only scortch and burn. The future rushes us like a maddened bull, but in the end, it always flinches first and settles into the present. We can do very little but breathe in, breathe out. There's both agony and catharsis in the knowledge that the world has not stopped turning. But for today, we are millions, scattered all across the world, mourning and crying for one singular person. And how beautiful, to have so many bow their heads in solidarity for your life. Being mourned is human right, and he has so, so many. Mourning is the remembrance of something great. It is the pain of knowing that things won't be the same.

Comfort is the answer to all life's problems. It doesn't solve them, but it makes them more distant for a bit. Keep eachother safe, seek out communities and just talk for a bit. My DMs are open right now if you don't have anyone else

If there is such a place, I know Techno will triumph the kingdom of God, and watch us from his throne, chuckling and calling us crybabies. He got spectator mode while the rest of us nerds remain in survival. Good fighting king, and here's to the absolute rediculous astonishment we may face when we pass on and come face to face with him, laughing at us about how we fell for the 'Dave' thing.

I am not a religious person. I believe that we cannot know if or not there is something greater. I don't have a particular religion, --a particular tale of afterlife to be precise--, that I gravitate my agnostisism around.

But I hope that there is somewhere in the stars or beyond the sunset that he may reunite with family and friends again one day.

'Are we living a life that is safe from harm?'

Of course not. We never are. But that’s not the right question. The question is are we living a life that is worth the harm?

It might feel like your life is unraveling, but your life cannot unravel. Your life is your life. You haven't lost it. It's just different now

Goodbye King

In our hearts, memories and mind, truely;

Technoblade never dies

#technoblade #techno #technoblade never dies #tribute #goodbye to a legend #my heart aches for his frinds and family #fuckcancer

18 notes · View notes

sins-of-the-sea · 6 months

Note

“Let’s see pirates sail from island to island looking for treasure right? They usually have pet parrots and the ship captain is almost always a big bearded guy who’s not always so nice to kids ah not that I think you’re mean at all Josep-San.” Kaban’s view of piracy is certainly limited to stereotypes you might find on a kids cartoon

Josep chuckles. "Well, as much as there are usually some sort of truth to the myths, in the case of pirates they're misunderstood or oversimplification of what was happening at the time.

"If one is to speak of the Golden Age of piracy.... well, for the most part, the exotic animal trade was surely a thing. To have a parrot would boast to anyone that this particular pirate would have been to the New World or some 'exotic' part of the Old World--hence, to have such a parrot would be a symbol of status. But as any parrot-keeper would tell you, they're not exactly high-maintenance, so you can't keep a parrot, or monkey, or some other exotic wild animal like one can keep a cat or a dog. And besides, you'll need to take into account feeding and cleaning up after them. So an everyday pirate who may have to rob others for food and soap would be highly unlikely to keep a parrot.

"As for beards, that depends on the time period and location. If we are speaking of the Caribbean and parts of Europe during the Golden Age of Piracy, the standard of fashion for men at the time in regards to beards is actually being clean-shaven. I don't recall if Edward Teach started his pirate career actually beardless before he would weaponize his eventual beard when going out in raids. Either way, from the 1600s-1700s, having large facial hair was falling out of fashion for men of the time, and any man with resources and self-respect would keep their face clean-shaven. Just as today where society would expect men to have their hair short and facial hair at least trimmed, the expectation back then was long but kept hair and a clean face. So you wouldn't come across too many pirates with beards. I don't keep a beard. I never liked having facial hair. So I would appear more typical of the time. Rashid is a notable exemption because he's an Arabian pirate, so the fashion of his time and place are different from those of European descent in the Caribbean.

"As for treasure hunting... it's not like what the books and movies make it out to be. Actual treasure hunting--as in going from island to island to search for lost goods--would look less like fancy-hatted adventurers with treasure maps and more like everyday chumps before the time of metal-detectors. In the Caribbean, if we did go actual treasure hunting, more than likely we'll go where we know a ship battle has taken place and search the general area for dropped goods, usually with a diving bell. I suppose it can be a career in itself, but it's not as fun or exciting as it sounds. It can get really tedious and exhausting. And not all ships that sink have something of value."

#correct me if I'm wrong OOC I'm mostly recalling on the top of my head what I read/watched about actual pirate facts of the time #[Captain Josep Frascona]#thesafaribaggirl returns

1 note · View note

brooklynislandgirl · 11 months

Text

tangleweave asked:

Studying tends towards the same general rules of conduct and etiquette whether one occupies Kamar-Taj or one of the Earthly Sanctums. Few appreciate the engagement of banter when reading or taking notes. Most do their best note-taking in silence. But Wong has noticed Beth's tendency to discuss the finer points of her studies with Stephen, and the recorder she employs as he walks her through the litanies of spells unfamiliar or adjacent to the craft she knows.

As a gesture of good faith, he brings to her a small dish containing small cube-like chunks of tomato and shredded salmon with bits of onion, and places it on the table beside her before circling about to sit opposite her.

"You are a light eater," he notes, "but I suspect a taste of home might do your stomach and your heart some good this evening. I was hoping to get your perspective on Stephen... and wondering if perhaps you would share how you came to value him as a teacher, considering your already advanced magical acumen."

~*~

A Little Me, A Little You || Accepting @tangleweave

Ko’u Puʻuwai || Stephen Strange Practical Magick || Dr Strange AU

The chambers that have been granted her ~a lovely euphemism as she’d gone full Kamehameha the Great and took the ones across from Stephen’s by right of conquest~ are quite lovely, spacious, and allowed to be made in self-reflective image. The stone is never too prohibitive with its chill. If anything there’s humidity here that cannot be found in the rest of the sprawling grounds. Not unlike the Tardis in many ways there’s more space then there ought to be. Thick rugs adorn the floors and there are cushions to sit upon, though she currently sits cross legged at a low slung table. Everywhere there is a riot of colour from various plants, flowers, and herbs, though green is ascendant. The air carries the scent of a salt tang that hits the back of the throat, and she is clever. The kiss of ocean comes from candles that burn judiciously. Aside from the bed and bookshelves, the most eye-catching thing is a small tree growing in a wooden planter, its leaves and trunks stained curiously red.

She had heard the door open and it is very much Stephen’s voice that gets cut off mid-sentence, a lecture passed on from the Greater Key of Solomon that Beth has taken absolute affront. She can see why Sorcerers might choose to practice their magick thus, but to bind and command a spirit is so anathema to her that it she can already feel the bile burning the back of her throat. Kahuna do not force, they ask. Respectfully. Usually with chiminage, or gifts, for the other side, just as real and alive as they are. She sets aside her pen and her note book.

“Master Wong,” she greets him warmly, though isn’t so blasé that she can keep surprise from her features when the scent of the poke ~specifically the shoyu~ hits her full in the face. She rises until he’s seated then offers him a respectful bow so deep her forehead nearly touches the table. Then she’s back on the floor almost exactly as she was when he entered. She had just picked up the chopsticks when Master Wong addresses his question to her and for a moment, she hesitates. Something she cannot express prickles its way down her spine. She swallows heavily. But before she answers him she rises to her feet. From one of her nooks she retrieves a now familiar item, an athame carved with sigils that looks like antique ivory stained with some reddish brown tarnish. Three times she walks a circle around the table, Wong, and her empty place, stopping at each quarter of the compass where she lifts her arms and whispers an invocation; to spirit and to element as she weaves together a boundary. While the words are not common to him, the intention is plain; anyone intruding on the space would be redirected elsewhere, and whatever was spoken within the confines of the circle would remain there, not to be heard. For Beth, it’s a simple spell that draws on both the spirits and the elements but it provides a secure comfort that she might speak with the master in open honesty.

“I was little more than a child,” she begins, enunciating to the best of her ability, “when I was granted entry into University. But even then I had great mana ~magick~ in my blood. My ancestry is rooted deeply in that of the gods and of our ancient line of kings. A child of many cultures, I learned fairly early to hide my arts. That was easy. As was finishing pre-med in two years rather than four. By that time, Stephen was....” Every aspect of her softens, the adoration in her features could rival the sun as she gazes toward some space over Master Wong’s shoulders. Nothing to suggest she even realises it but it’s a look that often appears in conjunction to the Sorcerer Supreme. “...One of the youngest, most talented doctors in our particular field. I suppose they pressed him to teach the younger generations though I am sure he’d rather preform his own splenectomy with only a rusty spork. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he can sometimes be a little... remote.” She regales him with the story of their first meeting and the way she interrupted his lecture, adding in her personal feelings of sheer terror, of the desire for Grandmother to open a sinkhole beneath her and swallow her whole. She speaks of no surgeon alive or dead who was as perfect, as if he could suspend stars in the heavens with a thought and walked on water on weekends. She speaks of his sense of humour. She confesses that perhaps her sole reason in choosing Columbia was in hopes of at least once being able to watch him work. Or bear witness to him speaking at an alumni event. She speaks of his devotion in educating her, helping her through some of the hardest material, how he would listen to her and hold debates that would span weeks. She spoke of attending events together, or simply sharing coffee and a chance to breathe. His insistence that she eat or sleep when it was clear she’d done neither, and how she would do the same for him. She tells him of becoming Stephen’s first choice to assist, how they worked seamlessly together as if they were the same hands linked to the same mind within the operating theatre. She speaks of a connection she’d not felt before, not even with her brother. “Stephen made me feel seen. Made me feel valued, appreciated, never left out or out of place. He taught me ethics and the value of hard work. He taught me to trust my instincts and judgements. How to gracefully overcome mistakes, and...I owe him for everything I am today.” She takes a moment to breathe. Picks at the poke though she doesn’t eat much of that, not before she places her hands on the little tea pot on the table ~jasmine with a hint of honey for sweetness~ and pours a cup for Wong. “I suppose it’s no real secret that...that I’ve been in love with him for sixteen years, almost half my life. And only now can we...we share all of this. I wanted to tell him before but...how could he believe me? I’m sure... I’m sure you understand how great a burden it is not to have been able to tell him everything. And..maybe I have no right to ask but...please...don’t tell him, okay? I lost him once, I don’t think I could survive a second time.” ~*~

attractiveness:

repulsive / hideous / ugly / not attractive / unappealing / not unattractive / meh / no preference / ok / mildly attractive / nice looking / cute / adorable / attractive / pleasant on the eyes / good looking / hot / sexy / beautiful / gorgeous / hot damn / would tap that / perfect / godlike / holy fuck there are no words.

personality:

grating / irritating / frustrating / boring / confusing at best / awkward / unreasonable / psychotic / disturbing / interesting / engaging / affectionate / aggressive / ambitious / anxious / artistic / bad tempered / bossy / charismatic / appealing / unappealing / creative / courageous / dependable / unreliable / unpredictable / predictable / devious / dim / extroverted / introverted / egotistical / gregarious / fabulous / impulsive / intelligent {almost offensively so} / sympathetic / talkative / up beat / peaceful / calming / badass / flexible.

how likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending / fuck no! / never / no way / not likely / not sure / indifferent / I’m asexual/sapiosexual {she has a thing for doctors, clearly} / maybe / probably / it depends / fairly likely / likely / yeah sure / yes / would tap that / hell yes / fuck yes! / wishing that could happen right now / as many times as possible / we are already having sex.

level of friendship:

never in a million years / worst of enemies / enemies / rivals / indifferent / neutral / acquaintance / friendly toward each other / casual friends / friends / good friends / best friends / fuck buddies / bosom buddies / practically the same person / would die for them / true friends / my only friend.

first impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re too cool for me / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

current impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

#tangleweave #Mahalo!Matt <333 #Sorcerer Supreme|Stephen Strange #Sphere Music|Stephen and Beth #Practical Magick|Dr Strange au #Brooklyn Stories|New York #terminally long post tw

1 note · View note

smokescholar · 1 year

Note

[ 🧱 ] how would you describe your muses’ morality? what are their core values? [ 😱 ] does your muse have any specific fears? where did those fears come from? [ 💍 ] does your muse have a “type” of people that they prefer to enter relationships with? is their type generally compatible with them, or does the dynamic tend to be toxic?

🧱 His views have changed a lot over the years tbh. For a lot of his upbringing, he followed the belief of 'obey without question.' Mahjarrat followed a caste system of the strongest rule with an iron fist and the weaker obey in hopes of earning favour and protection. Of course he did question things, but never out loud. He was not in a position to stand up to those higher ranking than him. He was barely scraping by as is, disobeying would have been the equivalent of holding a sign that says 'End Me Now.' Did he do things that he hated? Yes, but that was just the way things were.

In Senntisten, it was 'Fight for what's right/the greater good'. He was a soldier of his God, aiding Zaros in the expansion of the Empire. There was war, yes. He killed people. But in his eyes it was for the greater good, Zaros asked for so little in return for safety and technology the world had never really been exposed to yet; healthcare and formal education. He genuinely believed that under Zaros' wing, the world would be a better place. They just had to be taught, that's all.

Now, he has taken a very mellow approach. Do no harm, but take no shit. He doesn't like to interfere, even if he comes across as disinterested. He's just so used to being very in-your-face about things for years, he worries and stresses from a distance. If he does step in, he will not act violently. He's too old for that now. He won't pick fights, but he will certainly end them; he's intimidating enough for that. He prefers a mentor role, protect and guide but don't force it. Don't get upset if they go their own way, but always be there for them if they need it. He's good with his words now, he doesn't need his fists anymore.

😱 All Mahjarrat have a fear of dying. Being creatures with no soul to pass on and the only thing that makes them 'them' is a near indestructible little stone, death is something that always follows close by, despite them being essentially immortal. They have one life, then they face nothingness and that nothingness usually comes at the hands of another Mahjarrat. They come to fear being in the presence of each other.

But a personal fear? Abandonment and the idea of being worthless. From the moment he was born, he had something to prove. He had to fight to prove that his life was worth living, so he was quick to latch onto people who made him feel wanted. Take that away, and his pride will crumble. The feeling of failure that comes with the realization that nothing he does will matter crushes him. The void he felt when he saw his men die for a God that didn't care in the end, allowing someone to see his weakness only to be used against him and make him feel like he was dirt beneath their shoe really fucked him up. It left lasting wounds that still cause him doubt even all these years later.

💍 OH BOY this is a rough one. He goes in two extremes: either really small so he can fuss over them like they babby, or Big McLargeHuge make HIM feel like babby. He has a preference for more introverted people, as he's not really the adventurous sort and feels more comfortable just being in peace and quiet. A good head on their shoulders is a must. He doesn't expect like a PhD in philosophy IQ 300 kind of person. In fact, he finds that kind of boring. Anything they know, he probably already knows, considering he's lived for so long and accumulated so much knowledge he could say he has a few PhDs of his own just osmosis alone. What really gets him? People who enjoy the little things in life, the beauty of the mundane. Earth has so many strange things to him, little things people don't really think about. He just wants to enjoy existance.

But his relationships are by no means healthy. Mahjarrat don't really do 'healthy stable relationship'. Their mating practices are rough and tumble, obsessive and animalistic. He is clingy and possessive. He will throw his weight around and make his partner and EVERYONE around him know that they belong to him and him only. He knows better to react with aggression in a relationship with another race so his partner would not be in danger, but it doesn't stop the primal tendencies to come out.

The only real relationship he was in was...very much a toxic cess pit. They fought, made each other bleed and it was a constant battle for dominance. Slamming each other into walls, striking each other then proceed to go at it while their knuckles are still bleeding. It was another Mahjarrat, so this was just what they did with each other. Admittedly, he liked it. He liked having to fight, having to prove to a higher rank that he was worth it and being rewarded for it. The only reason they broke up was because the other's paranoia devolved into delusions that Wahi was conspiring to ruin his image and he proceeded to torture Wahi and cause The Injury. Admittedly, Wahi would accept his apology and take him back if he came crawling.

PROMPTS I’D LIKE TO RECEIVE || @thekavseklabs || Accepting

#ty for the ask!

1 note · View note

treeniesg · 2 years

Text

Is India Ready for a Circular Economy Revolution?

It was an eventful day at the Mahindra & Mahindra “Waste to Wealth” Seminar, I was invited to speak about waste management best practices in 3 sectors – automotive, IT and hospitality. The audience from various group companies had folks with experience ranging from 3 months to 35 years! I felt I was in an ocean of practitioners who had a wealth of knowledge to share.

In my talk I introduced the concept of “circular economy” wherein the thrust is to move away from “Take, Make, Dump” to more restorative material and biological cycles that mimic how nature works. Circular models please the environmentalists as well as the economists, since it identifies new ways of doing business while reducing resource consumption. I cited examples from the Ellen MacArthur foundation and CE 100 companies.

What I learnt, from my visits and interactions with various industries which have adopted great housekeeping practices, process orientation, lean systems, or 5S and supplier engagement, is that they are on the threshold of a great circular economy revolution. However at present no industry in India has looked at true circularisation of its business. While waste management within the boundaries of the factory has been institutionalized, I would really like to outline what is required to circularise more broadly the Indian industry.

It is heartening to note that there exists an intention to explore the opportunity circularisation offers, however as with any new “concept” industry is wary of it. To understand what is circular economy, companies need to look at two key indicators - materials procured and wastes generated. Then identifying how one can drastically reduce its resource consumption by reconsidering its design, processes, reuse and repurpose. With this in mind I have outlined 5 major areas where companies can initiate steps in circularisation of their business operations thereby leading to job creation and societal value.

1. Authorised vendors: Responsibility of the company does not end when waste is handed to an authorised pollution control board vendor. It is important that each company does not take consent of waste vendors at face value. Trace where your waste goes beyond company boundaries and whether the vendor has the required permits, processes and has done exactly what he has said to the waste taken from your site. That way your waste will not come back to bite you as in the example of Unilever and mercury dumping in Kodaikanal. Visit your waste vendor, request for their EHS audits, if required do the audit of their processes to be convinced that leakages are nil.

2. Recycled content: What I learnt through the day, as well as through numerous industry visits, most companies have integrated management systems and processes in place for waste minimisation and recovery. Indians being frugal (a virtue now disappearing) anything of value is recovered and sold – what companies need to do is to use more recycled content instead of virgin material. That way the closure of loop is ensured. Virgin material has higher embodied carbon! It definitely makes business sense to check how you can work with various dealers and write off your scrap against material obtained from the vendor. What needs to be done is to diligently measure and monitor this to increase recycled material in the product

3. Design: Waste in manufacturing primarily occurs due to process – there is huge potential for improvement in product design where all players across the value chain work on design improvisations which cut wastes. Products that are designed to last instead of designed to use and throw will be game-changers, there is a growing dissatisfaction with too much stuff and products that lose value in a very short time. Products can be reused, repurposed, upcycled after end of life instead of recycled. Great design and quality go hand and hand, products can be designed for the dump or planned obsolescence, and high quality well designed products last a lifetime and are handed down through generations!!

4. Regulations: India’s E-waste rules and plastic waste management rules are focusing on extended producer responsibility, but I have seen very little action by OEM producers on setting up collection and recovery mechanisms – this needs to be strengthened with guidance to companies to ensure that what the rules state are implemented.

5. Collaboration: One industry’s waste is another industry’s resource. Cross industry collaborations for purpose of managing its resources more effectively in local as well as scalable fashion is need of the hour. Waste exchange platforms can be strengthened, we are already seeing such platforms in India. In real terms collaboration is also about networking to find out synergistic progress areas for diverse industries. Example of synergies between construction waste and road industry is well known. One well known case of collaboration is co-processing of high calorific value hazardous wastes in cement industry furnaces. Geocycle initiative of the Lafarge group is housed at ACC plant in Thane and provides solutions for many industries. We need more such options which are viable and familiar to industries.

In my view Indian Industry is poised to take a leap in exploring this new thinking. I say this based on the fact that as Indians, who used to hold dear everything of value, as opposed to what we has now become “take make dump” economy, it’s time to mimic natural cycles of circularity and give nature its due. What is needed is leadership commitment, strategic thinking and reassessment of business models.

Originally Published by - https://www.treeni.com/

#Circular Economy Revolution #ESG #ESG risk and performance management #ESG Performance Management

0 notes

sparks-joy-imagines · 3 years

Note

Hi! Could I request some hcs or a one shot (whichever you prefer!) where Gojo finds out reader has never orgasmed with a partner before because her previous partners were kind of asses. Thank you either way! Have a lovely day! :)

hello love~ I figured I might as well turn this into a one shot because there had been just so~ many ideas floating around my head for this (including a few Japan traumata lol) - I hope you're ready to buckle up cause this one comes in at 5k appr. enjoy -mesu. PS: A very special thanks to niob for beta-ing this monster and talking me through it!!!❤

Gojō Satoru x f!reader warnings: vaginal penetration, oral sex (receiving), Gojō being a smug arse

You cursed the day you were born. Actually, no. You cursed the day Gojo Satoru was born to torment your existence.

The first time you had met Gojo it had been your first year teaching at Kyoto jujutsu high and your first impression had been that no single living being could withstand his gaze of scrutiny. Given, as the wielder of both infinity and the six eyes there wasn’t anyone on his level to begin with, but did he really have to be an arse about it? Who even hired him as a teacher – a person supposed to be of pedagogic value – in the first place?

Luckily, you didn’t have to see him all that often, usually just whenever the time of year came around for the good-will event with the sister school in Tokyo but he had picked up an unhealthy interest in your person and relentlessly teased you for whatever you did and didn’t do alike.

Utahime had once suggested that it was Gojo’s twisted way of flirting with you and you couldn’t help but scoff and reply that you had seen Gojo flirting. And it was nothing alike how he was acting towards you. Afterwards, Utahime had taken pity on you and acted as an intermittence between you and Gojo so he wouldn’t get under your skin anymore, albeit he mostly ended up getting under hers instead.

At least, that was until tonight. With the students being sound asleep in bed, everyone involved in the event unanimously had decided to head for a drink at a fancy bar in Ginza to celebrate the event ending more or less successfully despite the unforeseen interference of some higher ranked curses and you ended up sitting sandwiched between Utahime and Shoko who both had insisted on a girl’s table away from curious colleagues and ears, while the other staff were seated at a slightly larger table just out of earshot.

The back of your head hit your nape when you downed what felt like the 7th shot of nihonshu. The alcohol prior to the shots had already infiltrated your system, leaving your senses foggy and your tongue loose. You weren’t about to spill your secrets just yet, but it was definitely getting harder to suppress the glances you’d love to gift Gojo who seemed entirely unfazed by any of the liquor he had consumed this evening.

That prick has to use his innate techniques to cope with the alcohol!

You narrowed your eyes, glaring at the tall man across the table who hadn’t even bothered to take his blindfold off while sporting a vaguely amused if aloof expression while the headmaster of Kyoto high and Tokyo high appeared to be in a heated discussion. Speaking of rude.

Lost in your thought of how much you longed to wipe that smirk off of Gojo’s face, you didn’t follow the topic of conversation of your friends at the table who definitely had one nihonshu too many.

“I’m telling you, anatomically speaking, it’s just unfair. It’s so much easier for men to achieve an orgasm, alright? It’s as if nature was against us women,” Shoko sighed dramatically, taking the nihonshu bottle to refill the shot glasses only to find it empty. Another, this time desperate, sigh followed.

“What’s even worse is that men usually don’t care about their partner's pleasure at allll,” Utahime responded with a distinct lull in her voice while she was already close to resting her cheek on the table. She’s definitely had enough but that didn’t stop her from going on, “Ever since I started dating, there’s been what? Maybe two decent enough guys that actually cared if I came too or not.”

“Sounds about right,” Shoko agreed, apparently trying to find some universal truth in the emptiness of the bottle she was still holding onto.

You shot a glance to the two unhappy women at your side, deciding that it was time to share your two cents of truth under your breath, “At least you’ve had partners before who took care of your needs, too. I for once have only been with arseholes who could care less if I came or not. And so I never did… so…consider yourselves lucky? I guess.”

As expected, your volume made it impossible for them to catch what you were revealing and Utahime unbeknownst interrupted the aftermath to your soft confession by suddenly straightening her posture in a surge of drunken energy, grabbing one of your and Shoko’s hands respectively to declare something about not letting this circumstance prevent anyone from having a great night.

You could’ve sworn the corner of Gojo’s mouth perked up the second you shot him another glance…

A few drinks, a second bar, and a couple hours later.

Your head was spinning slightly and you leaned your back against the wall of the establishment you’d just stepped out of. Damn your senpai for making you drink. You soaked in the wet, clean night air which could only be achieved during the rainy season in Tokyo.

The moment you pressed your eyes shut you could hear Utahime demanding to move onto a karaoke bar and continue this until morning. Of fucking course, you thought to yourself and opened your eyes, desperate for any excuse to skip what was about to come.

Among general consensus with a few nods and exclamations here and there, you slowly noticed how Gojo was watching you intently. By now he had actually gotten rid of his blindfold and was sporting his dark shades, his soft hair was framing his angular face, slightly damp by the drizzle and you would have gladly punched him for the way the street lights and shop signs reflected in his hair.

Still, right now you had other things to worry about and so you took a deep breath and spoke up, “Thanks for this evening but I’ll have to take my leave now. It’s already late and I don’t think my voice can handle singing right now.” An obvious lie as your voice was just fine, but it’d do the trick of getting you out of corporate pressure.

And that’s exactly what happened. Your excuse was accepted at face value and you were wished a good night’s rest. Umbrellas were opened and the group made of two faculties strolled towards the closet illuminated Karaoke sign.

You waited until everyone was on the move, so you could gather yourself in your time without any scrutinising eyes on you.

“Leaving an intoxicated damsel to her own devices? How could I be the strongest without taking care of her? Allow me to lead you home, (Y/N)~”

Just when you thought you had lived through the worst, Gojo’s voice piped up right next to your ear. You hadn’t seen him stay behind and now he was close, dangerously so, and he didn’t even care to hide the glee in his voice.

You managed to turn your head in his direction and gift him – what was in your imagination – a nasty stare. For Gojo, it rather seemed like you were trying your best to fixate your dizzy gaze on him.

He sighed and for once dropped his excruciating façade, speaking in a normal tone, “Seriously tough, (Y/N), I’d rather lead you home. Tokyo’s far from being safe at night.”

Seeing and actually hearing Gojo apparently genuinely concerned made you weigh your chances enough that you finally sighed in defeat, “Fine. But only up to the doorstep.”

Gojo blinked at you repeatedly, appearing almost insulted that you dared to think him a man who would take advantage of women like that – truth being that he was more insulted that you thought that he was actually in need of such tricks – and made an off-hand remark of how he could never.

You waved your hand dismissively and slowly tried to straighten your posture, “You’re here by car, right? That’s why you used your innate technique to not get drunk. Wish I could’ve done the same, wouldn’t be dying of spinning world syndrome right now.”

That stopped Gojo’s rant about his hurt pride. A sheepish smirk appeared on his lips and he stated flatly, “You noticed.”

You nodded, which turned out to have been a terrible idea. Nausea overcame you and you tried to curl into a ball, but Gojo was next to you in a second, smoothly wrapping his long arm around your waist while his free hand reached for your hand, easily securing your stance like that.

“Let’s get you home, shall we?”

You nodded and simply concentrated on not getting sick while he led you towards the parking lot where his car was parked. He left you shortly to pay for the ticket and you leaned against one of the nearby vending machines, concentrating on your breathing.

A few moments later the relatively quiet night was disturbed by the low roar of what turned out to be a pricey sports car. It didn’t take long for Gojo to stop said car right in front of you. Ever the gentleman he stepped out of the driver’s seat and opened the door to the passenger’s side for you, offering his hand to you for assistance. The entire picture which enfolded in front of you seemed to be taken out of a romance.

Only when you wobbled over to the car and felt the infinity between your hand and Gojo’s you snapped back to reality, pursing your lips as you stated, “You never let anyone actually touch you, do you?”

“If someone’s worth my while, sure I do,” Gojo replied with a sly smile, but something in his eyes appeared resigned, almost lost. But maybe that was just your imagination? Almost promising.

You didn’t even have time to follow-up on his statement as he simply shut the door in your face, cutting any further discussion short. Soon, Gojo settled in the driver’s seat and drove off towards your hotel. You didn’t even question how he knew where he needed to go.

Silence fell upon you and you simply turned your gaze to the flashing street lights, allowing you to marvel at Tokyo’s nocturnal atmosphere for a while. This was so much better than making your way through the confusing public transport in time for the last train. You shot Gojo another gaze and were surprised to find him diligently keeping his eyes on the road.

At once you wondered if you unwittingly had been keeping him from joining the others at karaoke. Singing one’s soul out and getting undressed in the process seemed right up Gojo’s alley.

“…Thank you for taking me back to the hotel. I appreciate it. You… didn’t really have to do this though, I’m sure you wanted to attend karaoke with the others,” you started off your half-apology.

A soft yet deep chuckle escaped Gojo’s throat.

“Oh sure I did, hun. There’s been something on my mind concerning you which is just soooo much more fun than karaoke could ever be after all,” Gojo casually replied, eyes never straying from the road.

You frowned and cocked your head in an inquisitive manner.

“Don’t act confused now, love,” Gojo smirked as he pulled over and parked the car right next to the entrance of the hotel. He unfastened his seatbelt to turn to you completely and casually rested his elbow against his seat, “Now, why don’t you tell me about never having orgasmed with a partner before?”

The question hung in the air for a moment as Gojo watched you curiously while you didn’t believe the meaning behind what your ears had picked up on.

“I…,” you spilled quickly, already feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. This had to be a nightmare. How did he know of that? You never told a soul, too embarrassed by your unfortunate choice of past sexual partners, and now Gojo Satoru – out of all possible people – knew of your secret?!

The panic must have shown on your face as Gojo’s smug expression softened slightly and he leaned closer to you, only stopping when the tip of his nose almost collided with yours, “You should take more care who might be listening in when you’re talking to yourself, (Y/N).”

You nodded once and leaned back, avoiding Gojo’s touch and gaze as best you could, “T-thanks for the ride.” Even if his revelation had thrown you off entirely, you tried your best to hide it.

“My pleasure. I’ll have to insist on taking you to your room though.” Gojo’s tone was unforgiving and made it very clear that you wouldn’t get out of him walking you all the way.

You sighed deeply and submitted to your fate, sinking into your seat until he had rounded the car and opened the passenger’s door so you could accept his hand to disembark in a semi-elegant manner.

Once you had found your balance he let go of your hand, matching your pace as you walked towards your room, acting as if he hadn’t just nonchalantly invaded your privacy. You shot him several glances but Gojo acted very interested in the interior of the hotel. You didn’t buy it though. Obviously he was just relishing in the fact that he got under your skin.

So he didn’t want to push any further? Fine by you. You huffed softly and pushed the button for your floor once you boarded the lift, Gojo strolling on your heels, hands shoved into the pocket of his trousers.

You refrained from looking at anything close to Gojo’s direction, albeit you could feel his piercing gaze on you. You used the time of the short ride to get your room card out of your purse and as soon as the automatic doors opened, you darted out of the lift and unlocked the door to your room with a soft beep.

Barely having shuffled inside you got rid of your purse and turned around to thank Gojo once again, finding him right on your doorstep.

“Thanks, Gojo, I appreciate what you did tonight,” you smiled awkwardly at the close proximity and mustered the courage to look into his eyes, just to be surprised by their intensity.

“Of course,” Gojo hummed, resting his left arm on the doorframe he leaned closer, stopping right before crossing the threshold with his movements. He easily kept your eyes locked in his, making you all but forget about bringing some distance between you.

“Before I leave… y’know I could help you out with your little problem, (Y/N). If you’re up for it, that is.”

Gojo’s voice was low, eyes dark, pupils dilated with a certain hunger as they stared right into your soul.

When his words registered a soft gasp unwittingly left your lips as your eyes grew wide.

Just what was happening? Had Utahime been right all along?

The next moment Gojo was leaning down to you, making all but sure that your senses shut down to a bare minimum. Standing there frozen in place, time seemed to slow down around you as your eyes flickered from Gojo’s luscious lips to his cyan eyes and back to his lips again.

Was this really happening right now?

Your heart pounded against your chest harshly and you pressed your eyes shut to calm your nerves. That is when you felt his soft lips against the skin of your cheek, undoubtedly skin on skin. He‘d really turned his infinity off!

“As I have told you prior, I don’t take advantage of intoxicated women. But as I understand it, you still have a couple hours before your bullet train back to Kyoto tomorrow. I’ll be waiting for you, (Y/N). You won’t regret it. . .~”

You held your breath and nothing. When you finally opened your eyes again Gojo was gone. Simply vanished! He had done exactly what he had promised to do. Taken you home, up to your doorstep and not a millimetre further.

Did this mean that he was going to keep what he offered if you turned up at his doorstep tomorrow? Up until now Gojo had never given you any reason to doubt him. Sure, he was a prick, but he was honest about being a prick. At least that was more than could be said about any of your former affiliations.

It took a couple more moments before you managed to close the door and turn in to a sleepless night contemplating if you might as well take Gojo up on his offer.

The next day. After some empty excuses to Utahime of why you couldn’t spend the last hours in Tokyo together. In front of Gojo’s apartment.

You stared at the kanji at the apartment, contemplating if you should really proceed now. It had been a pain to get Gojo’s address, dodging several inquisitive questions of Utahime, but now that you were finally here you weren’t sure if you should be anymore.

Given Gojo had lived up to every single thing he had proclaimed so far, plus he never had given you any reason not to trust him. Still, did being here meant that you were willing to compromise your integrity for something as trivial as good sex? More so than the actual act, you were afraid of what it might mean for your future relationship with Gojo; which would be anything but professional hereafter.

Before you could spiral further into second guessing yourself, the apartment door in front of you opened smoothly, offering the view to a slightly dishevelled looking Gojo apparently just out of the shower.

The moment you locked eyes with his bare ocean orbs, a smug grin emerged on his face, “Fancy seeing you here, (Y/N). Come in.”

You mumbled a greeting and stepped into his modern apartment, quickly getting rid of your shoes and outer layers while Gojo walked further back into the flat calling out to you, “Can I offer you something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Pineapple juice?~”

You rolled your eyes, very convinced that you just shouldn’t have come here. You followed Gojo’s voice into a broad living room with an open kitchen. The colours and décor were kept simple, black and white, sometimes a splash of colour in the colour of his goddamn eyes.

After having accessed the surroundings to your heart’s content you turned to Gojo, “Do you happen to have pineapple juice – notoriously known for apparently for making the taste of oral sex sweeter – at hand for your guests at all times? Or did you go shopping for me yesterday?”

A soft chuckle, “I happen to like the flavour. Plus, I am quite certain your juices aren’t in need of any enhancement.” A wink followed. What a bastard.

Ignoring the faint blush that emerged on your cheeks, you countered, “And what exactly makes you so sure about that, mh?”

Gojo shortly nibbled on his full lips as he sized you up with hungry eyes. Then, he slowly rounded the kitchen counter until he stood right in front of you. The smell of his surprisingly fruity after-shave intoxicated your senses.

“Wanna find out?”

You managed a nod and Gojo smirked wider, simply lifting you up on the counter so you were closer to eye level with him.

And then he finally let his soft luscious lips collide with yours, involving you in a breathless, inifity-less kiss while your arms wrapped around his neck on their own accord. Gojo smirked against your lips pulling you closer to himself, gladly taking the opportunity to feel up through the fabric of the blouse you were wearing for travel.

How you cursed the school’s clothing protocol at that moment!

Frowning slightly you broke the kiss, quickly trying to get rid of your blouse with your hands, but Gojo had other plans, catching your hands in his he leaned closer and purred on your lips, “Ah-ah (Y/N), there’s still plenty of time till your bullet train. No need to rush~ This is more than a mere quicky to shoot one’s load and carry on, after all. I need you to relax and enjoy the ride.”

You weren’t quite sure what did the trick. The proximity to him or his genuine tone, but you visibly relaxed and started shamelessly feeling Gojo up in return. You weren’t surprised to find defined abs when you pushed the fabric of his shirt out of the way and followed their lines for a bit before you moved on to explore his back.

“Good girl,” Gojo chuckled in your ear and let out a teasing gasp in response to your initiative before he went to nibble on your earlobe, making you cross your legs behind his hips as a soft whimper escaped your lips.

“Sensitive, are we?”

Gojo moved back, capturing your lips in another kiss, this time parting yours with his cheeky tongue so he could explore your mouth to his heart’s content. You happily complied and concentrated on his tongue enough that you didn’t notice how he skilfully unbuttoned your blouse.

Your legs tightened around Gojo’s hips and you moaned when you felt his growing bulge through the fabric. Gojo took this opportunity to kiss down your neck only to ravish it mercilessly while his hands had taken a liking to your boobs, kneading them through your lacey bra.

“Hah~” More and more lewd noises filled the heated air as Gojo pinched your hardened nipples just the right amount to send shivers down your spine and you were glad that you didn’t have to depend on your trembling legs anymore.

Desperate for support you scratched blindly over Gojo’s upper arms which led him to gift you a wolfish smile as he pulled back enough to strip off your blouse and a swift motion later your bra followed.

Pouting slightly you picked on his shirt, making Gojo scoff and get rid of it, too. You sighed content about the equal stages of undress and wiggled slightly on top of the counter, enjoying the friction this provided against both the fabric of your pants and Gojo’s bulge.

“You little minx,” Gojo growled lowly, suddenly pinning you down to the counter by your neck. The cold surface sent a shiver through the entirety of your body. He adjusted his grip to be more gentle, yet still determined enough to hold you in place, actively preventing you from escaping from his touch. You would welcome the sweet torture that was to follow deliberately and Gojo was very aware of that.

Soon enough Gojo began his agonisingly slow treatment of your torso, mouthing his way from your collar bones to your chest where he spent his sweet time circling each nipple with his tongue.

You didn’t know what exactly he was doing with his shameless long tongue but you had never felt your body rise to the touch on its own quite like that and it took a minute to recognise it was your own voice which echoed through the apartment so obscenely.

Desperate for more stimulation which Gojo still withheld from you, you tried to pull him closer with your crossed legs, earning a suppressed moan from him as his erect member brushed against your clothed sex. How much you would’ve given for those layers to finally be gone.

“You really haven’t been getting laid properly at all, huh.”

Completely unnerved by now you groaned and shot Gojo an acid glare, but the elite sorcerer just chuckled to himself as he straightened back up, sizing you up in the process once again. You had never seen his eyes this dark.

In a split second his hands were undoing your pants as if they had never done anything else in his life and a few moments later you were sitting on the counter completely undressed.

When you blinked away your surprise, Gojo brushed another deep kiss on your lips, humming on them, “I’d hold onto something if I were you~”

And then he dove down to your core, hands holding your hips in place well aware that you wouldn’t be able to hold still.

As soon as his lips connected to your nether folds, a lightning impulse flashed through your body and your loudest moan yet left your lips. Your head flew back by itself and you wreathed as best you could on the counter top for either more or less friction, you weren’t quite sure.

All the while Gojo relentlessly continued his pursuit of your sex, tongue swirling expertly over and around your clit, building up a certain intensity before he moved down slightly to lick and mouth at your entrance.

You desperately held onto the edge of the counter for support, spilling his name over and over again, while Gojo cheekily thrust his tongue into you for a taste before he redirected his attention to your clit again.

The coil in your core seemed to harden and become undone at the same time and another flick of Gojo’s tongue made you scream as you jerked up as you finally hit your high. Juices spilled out of your cunt and you buried your flushed face in your hands while your entire body was convulsing in ecstasy.

Gojo made sure to keep his grip on you so you wouldn’t slide down from the counter, licking his soiled lips. Once he was sure that your breathing calmed down a bit he gently stroked away a couple of stray strands of hair and smirked, “Told ya you weren’t in the need of any enhancement, babe. You’re to die for~”

Still concentrating on your oxygen intake you were feeling rather overwhelmed with everything that had played out just now. It took a bit of bargaining with yourself to search for Gojo’s gaze again, but when your eyes met you immediately noticed the mixture of hunger and smug complacency in his. He had gotten you good, but you decided you weren’t going to leave before payback.

And so you cocked your brow up and smirked, “I admit you lived up to your word, Gojo. Mind if we take round two to the bedroom?”

A grin.

“Not at all, princess,” Gojo replied and picked you up bridal style to carry you off into his chamber.

Gojo’s bedroom was dark. Both furniture and bedding were either held in a dark grey or black and the shades were lowered. When Gojo let you down on the bed you took a look around and tended your head slightly at the unexpected interior.

You were torn out of your thoughts when you heard Gojo unbuckle his belt, followed by the sound of his zipper and turned back to see him in his whole glory.

His member was definitely on the larger side, but you were happy to see it came short of what you knew would be painful to insert. It had a nice girth and was slightly tended to the right, the tip glistening with pre-cum meant for your prior endeavors. You licked your lips unconsciously, eager to feel it in you.

“Marveled at my dick enough, have we? ” Gojo smirked knowingly and reached for a condom which just happened to lie on top of his nightstand.

You nodded slightly and watched him routinely put it on, before you pulled him on top of the bed and ravished his mouth with yours. He had deserved your undivided attention after making true of his promise and you were way past the stage of having any second thoughts.

Gojo curled his lips against yours, easily positioning himself on top of you while his hands were suddenly all over your body. It seemed like he wanted to leave his touch on every inch of your being and honestly? At this very moment you didn’t mind if he did.

The energy between the two of you grew hotter by the minute and you gasped for breath when he readjusted your hips so his member was prodding against your entrance.

“Last chance, (Y/N)…hng~”

The strain in his voice did it for you and you brushed a fleeting kiss on his cheek on your way to his ear, “Take me already, Satoru!”

A deep groan reverberated in Gojo’s upper body at the mention of his first name and he penetrated you in a swift, smooth motion, making both of you moan with pleasure.

He gave you a moment before he moved, offering the opportunity to get used to his considerable size before he started moving at a cheeky pace. Something had just clicked between the two of you and you moved against him as if you had never done anything else in your life. It felt liberating. It felt right. . .

A couple many minutes and exchanges of ecstasy later.

You were laying sprawled half-way over Gojo while he lazily played with your slightly damp hair. After your last round he had suggested a shower since you technically still had a train to catch and you thought it a good idea.

If you hadn’t stopped him, you would’ve also stained his bathroom with his name. Who would’ve thought that his infinite also applied to sexual stamina? But then again, it was Gojo who you were talking about.

You weren’t quite sure how this session was going to change your relationship with Gojo in the future, but you definitely didn’t regret going through with it.

You shuffled slightly on the bed and stretched slightly, “Mh, what’s the time?”

“Hn, ten past two,” Gojo replied with a raspy, yet slightly amused voice.

Ten past two. Ten past two. The bullet train back to Kyoto you were supposed to board was leaving at half past two!

You jumped out of the bed, hurriedly reaching for your clothes.

“FUCK!”

“Any time, (Y/N)”

You shot Gojo another glare, painfully aware that he had to have known.

Gojo only gifted you a wink and grinned, “If you are going to be as nice to me as you were just now the next time we meet, I might be willing to help you out, (Y/N)~”

You cursed the day you were born. Actually, no. You cursed the day Gojo Satoru was born to torment your existence.,

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #one shot #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen one shot #jujutsu kaisen x reader #text #jjk requests are open #not sfw #mesu #5k baby #jjk

195 notes · View notes

stevengrant-mybeloved · 2 years

Text

While I’ve seen both praise and criticism from people with DID or OSDD in the online community watching Moon Knight, (*disclaimer as I don’t personally have/experience DID myself*) the general consensus/average seems to be that it’s *pretty* good or at least halfway decent (depending what we see happening after episode 5), at least in comparison to other media depictions, as long as people understand it’s sensationalized for television and visual/dramatic effect and the like, but the problem is a lot of people, especially (but not exclusively) younger people who make up a large part of Marvel’s audience (side eyes some atrocious tiktok videos), aren’t understanding that and are taking these things at face value or at no value at all. And I think Marvel does the disorder a disservice by not outright stating in universe that that’s what it is: Dissociative Identity Disorder. Marc (though in fairness, he may not know 100% himself and it’s not right to place all the responsibility on him as a character) doesn’t explain the system or alters, Steven is still kind of in the dark even after finding other things out, and thus, so are the average viewers. Despite interviews and source materials and word of God (not moon gods), I still see posts and videos and tweets going around calling it schizophrenia or something when it’s not, or making jokes about the symptoms and the switches like it’s something fantastical made up just for the show and not a real struggle that real people go through. It’s not all their fault, the viewers, I mean, it’s unlikely they’d have come across this kind of thing in their life unless they personally know a system/are a system or have researched the disorder for some reason or another, but that’s where I think some degree of responsibility/accountability is needed on Marvel or anyone’s part when portraying such a stigmatized disorder (and yes in turn while consuming media with it, but the former is needed for the latter). No, they don’t have to hold the audience’s hand and spell out every little detail, but they should at least give the audience the word so they can spell it out themselves, you know? Because while they got some things right, there’s a lot they took creative liberties with or didn’t go into detail for and without the source, some people are going to see that as the source/only rep they’ve ever seen or not even realize what it’s representing, when a lot of stigma and ignorance could be avoided with one solid, genuine in universe conversation on the topic, even a simple one. A simple conversation, which could then lead to more meaningful, in depth, out of universe conversation, cracking open the door for discussion rather than leaving the burden of picking the lock and knocking and shoving the door open for discussion onto those its trying to represent. Bad analogy but I digress.

I mean, I enjoy Moon Knight (gestures to Moon Knight centric blog), but liking something doesn’t mean you can’t be critical/self aware about it and vice versa, and while not without its flaws, I think Marvel has taken strides in its portrayal of mental illness, in the way Marc and Steven both admitted to needing help, while also having the show reiterate that they’re not broken, in the way that the ableism coming from Arthur Harrow is clearly depicted as being wrong, as something the bad guy does, in the way trauma is explored/revealed as the root of this type of disorder, and it’s handled with respect we haven’t gotten before *cough* Thor *cough*, in the way Moon Knight’s powers are not connected to/a result of his mental illness and his mental illness is not connected to/a result of his powers, in the way the genuine stress and fear and confusion are depicted, the reality and desperation of the situation among the unreality of a world of gods and superheroes, again unconnected to the magical part and yet integral to the character nonetheless, in the way they don’t gloss over his struggles, they don’t downplay or romanticize it, but they don’t make his struggles his whole identity either, even in the way the topic of consent in regards to switching is explored and the switches become more natural over time. I do think they’re trying on some level, which is great, and general audiences won’t come out from watching Moon Knight with the same prejudice and misconceptions they would coming out from watching say, Split. I don’t think anyone or at least not many god forbid have the takeaway here that DID is what makes Marc (or Jake) kill or be violent, or that it’s dangerous to anyone but the system, or that integration is the way to go when it’s so often not or etc., but I’m also not sure how many casual audience members are going to take away the fact that this is DID at all in the first place, underneath it all, this is a real thing. Moon Knight is mentally ill, Moon Knight is a superhero with DID, and that means so, so much. It is not something you should ignore or demonize or magicalize or dramatize or pity or baby-fy or meme-ify, it is something you should empathize with and understand. But to do so: they have to stop being coy and say the words because show don’t tell is all well and good if the audience is used to what you’re showing, but when it’s brand new to a lot of them, no amount of hints will lead them to the right answer. Like a riddle where the solution is a song or phrase you’ve never heard of.

You can’t get anywhere without taking the first step... and that’s what people need to remember, this is a step, but it’s not the whole staircase and we need to keep going.

(I’ve never been very concise as you can see or eloquent, so not looking to argue or anything here, just trying to point out based on general observations and research, so apologies for any mistakes or misrepresentation or anything. As always, listen to those to which these things pertain, take some things with a grain of salt, and open yourself to learning)

#moon knight #long post

23 notes · View notes

everythingharrypotterblog · 3 years

Text

charmed [7]: ‘night changes’ (remus lupin x reader)

a/n: i got rejected from my top choice university program today so if im gonna be unhappy, might as well make u guys happy and release parts 5 and 7

brief summary: y/n and remus are both teachers at hogwarts and this is his first transformation where he is under wolfsbane. y/n remains in human form as he transforms. werewolf or not, all y/n ever feels is him.

series summary: set in the prisoner of azkaban, including its major plot points. remus and y/n get hired by dumbledore last minute to teach at hogwarts, defense against the dark arts and charms respectively. not wanting the students to know they are married, they navigate the challenging year through hidden glances, hand holds underneath the table and loving moments in their offices. even with all their efforts to conceal their relationship, their chemistry does not go unnoticed by the student population of hogwarts, who grow fond of the pair as they offer them some of the best classes they’ve had in a while. their relationship as newlyweds is strengthened as teaching the next generation of wizards unlocks a sea of memories of their love story. for the second time in his life, remus holds hogwarts responsible for some of his happiest memories. he’s given the chance to create them with the love of his life, y/n, who has taught and continues to teach him that every part of him is lovable, remaining forever under her charm.

series masterlist here

join taglist here

previously, in part 1:

“No, you don’t understand, it’s incredibly, extremely dangerous for a human to be around a were-“ Remus had tried to say, before Y/N had stood up and with a crack, disappeared. A single white dove hovered where she had stood, its wings flapping slowly to stay afloat.

“Y/N?”

With a crack, Y/N had appeared again.

“I didn’t know you were an Animagus.”

Y/N grinned.

“What, you thought James, Sirius and Peter were the only ones to ever succeed at it?”

Remus still grimaced, shaking his head and looking down.

“It’s still too dangerous, I won’t risk it. I couldn’t possibly think of hurting you, I’m too dangerous-“

“Remus, stop it. You didn’t hurt Peter as a rat back in the day, you wouldn’t hurt a flinging bird either. Plus, I got a serious height advantage on you anyway.” Y/N raised her eyebrows at him teasingly, transforming back again into the dove and flying up to the ceiling. Lupin wasn’t convinced.

“Y/N, you shouldn’t-“

The dove reappeared as Y/N and kneeled between Lupin’s legs, taking his face into her hands carefully.

“Please? Let me be there for you. Let me try-“

“I-“ Remus winced in his crippling self-doubt.

“I promise, if I ever feel unsafe, I’ll fly away. I promise.”

Remus nodded. “I love you.”

Y/N was taken aback, but surged forward to press her lips against his.

“I love you too.”

It was the first time they had said that to each other.

The first full moon of the Hogwarts term was now but a day away. As it drew nearer, Remus got paler and grew more irritable, as it always was.

The students never noticed, as he remained their kind Professor Lupin to them. Remus valued the staff and Dumbledore in extremely high regard, so he mainly kept to himself to avoid conflict.

However, his short temper was not 100% appeasable.

He was presently in his office, leg anxiously bouncing. He couldn’t help but jitter as restless energy coursed through him. The door opened, and he jerked his head in its direction, to see Y/N walk in, slightly anxious as well.

“Hi, love.” She said, making her way to him.

“He’s late.” Remus muttered.

“It’s Albus Dumbledore, what do you expect- maybe he had a Wizarding War in Luxembourg to stop before this or something.” Y/N joked, dragging a chair beside her and taking Remus’ hand.

His leg stopped bouncing.

1980.

Remus sat in an armchair in the House of Black’s library, attempting to distract himself before the night would come, a transformation night.

Loud voices reverberated across the walls, and he usually wouldn’t have minded, but the full moon made him more irritable.

“Will you guys stop yelling!” He called out across the hallway to the room where James, Sirius and a couple other Order members were talking over each other.

Sirius shared a look with James and they shrugged, making a motion with their hand asking the others to lower their voices.

“Hi, guys!” In came Y/N’s voice, as she walked through the door after a day of work, setting down her jacket. She joined the table for a few snacks, before inquiring, “Where’s Remus?”

“Ah, in the library.” James said mindlessly, shuffling the pack of cards they were playing with. He spotted Y/N head for that direction, and attempted to add, “But I wouldn’t disturb him if I were-“

But Y/N already walked in the library, wanting to see her boyfriend. She found him buried in a book, sitting slightly uncomfortably in his clothes, as if his body was having pre-transformation aches.

“Hi, love.” She said gently.

Remus peered up from his book and instantly smiled, uncrossing his legs and patting at his lap. Y/N took a seat on him, and he wrapped his arms around her comfortably.

“How was work?” He grumbled, mouth kissing up her arm and shoulder.

“Oh, just the usual.”

He listened to her talk about her day, hugging her as she sat in his lap.

James heard faint sounds of their light voices from the other room, and laughed. Sirius shook his head, both of them amused by their friend’s drastic change in demeanor.

“Little fucker.”

Dumbledore appeared in Remus’ office not long after Y/N joined, with a goblet of familiar-looking blue smoke.

“Remus, Y/N. I took the liberty of bringing you your last dose myself, Severus has already done so much. So, you wanted to talk about the logistics of your upcoming transformation.”

Remus nodded, leaning forward and taking the potion.

“This is your first time with Wolfsbane, so we cannot be sure on how it will affect you. However, I trust that it has been brewed properly, so it should do its function, which is to maintain your mental state when you transform.”

“So technically, he could just stay and hide here in his office and wait for the night to be over?” Y/N asked Dumbledore, thumb rubbing over Remus’ hand.

“Yes. If the potion has been brewed correctly, which I am sure it has, Remus should transform into nothing but a harmless wolf. Of course, because this is your first time, if you still wish to go outside and-“

“Yes.” Remus interjected, once he finished the last of the potion. “I wish to still use the Whomping Willow, just to avoid all potential risk.”

“Very well.” Dumbledore smiled, bowing his head. “I have complete trust in you, so you do as you please.”

“And I should… I won’t forget who I am, I won’t lose my mind?” Remus asked.

“No.” Dumbledore confirmed. “Your mental state will stay intact.”

“Then, I can technically be in human form with him.” Y/N gasped as the idea jumped into her head. She was immediately met with startled looks from both Dumbledore and Remus, Dumbledore merely intrigued and Remus looking downright terrified. “I mean, I could be with him. Me, a human.” She added hastily.

Glancing at Remus’ fervently opposed look, Dumbledore merely stood up.

“I will leave that between you two to discuss. Goodnight, and good luck.” He said. “Oh! And one more thing.”

His eyes twinkled. “I hear talk amongst the students since the start of term. About you two.”

Remus and Y/N looked at each other nervously.

“Something about spotting their Charms and Defence teachers always being present in each other’s offices…”

Y/N mouth dropped in shock, trying to figure out how students could even know where they spent their nights, before Dumbledore laughed heartily, shaking his head.

“I kid, I kid, I have heard nothing of the sort. All that has reached my ears are the raving comments about your classes and subjects. Keep up the good work, Professors.” Dumbledore chuckled, and vanished into the fireplace.

Y/N stared dumbfounded at the spot he disappeared, before letting out a laugh.

“I-“ She blinked. “He is so weird, and can you believe, I almost let slip that I’m an Animagus-“

She stopped once she looked at her husband, whose expression was grave.

“Wha-“

“You cannot stay in human form with me.” He shook his head.

Y/N stayed silent for a second. “Why not? If this potion works, and we know it will, your-“

“We can’t be too sure!” Remus sighed. “Werewolves, we hunt for humans. We look for victims to bite, to… to-“

“If the potion doesn’t work, then I’ll just transform into a dove, like always.”

Remus met her eyes in a worried gaze.

“I’ve been a bird countless of times on your transformations, you’re still gonna let me do that, are you?” Y/N raised her eyebrows. “You even said, werewolves look for humans, animal companions are harmless-“

“Which is exactly why you can’t be in human form, darling! The extreme danger that would put you in, you have no idea.”

“I have no idea?” Y/N pursed her lips, instinctively reaching out to her bicep, on which lay a tiny white scar.

Remus glanced at it too, with almost hatred and remorse in his eyes, as he sighed, hand tracing over it and kissing it.

“Maybe you should transform right now, my love.” Remus said anxiously as he, Y/N, James, Sirius and Peter walked through an abandoned part of the woods.

The sky was dark, and the clouds radiated a faint shimmer indicating the full moon would appear soon.

“I won’t transform until I absolutely need to.” Y/N said firmly, hand holding onto Remus’ tightly.

“She’ll follow our lead, Moony, don’t worry.” Sirius said.

Unintentionally, they stopped at a small hill, deeming the timing to be right.

“Y/N, it’s not too late, you could just Disapparate away, I-“ Remus said to Y/N.

“Remus. Stop. I’m not scared.” Y/N smiled at him, cupping his cheek. “You’re still you. And I love you, all parts of you. Nothing will change that, or you and me.”

Remus nodded, breathing quickly and pulled her in for a kiss, before the other Marauders beckoned Y/N to back away slightly as the moon started to peak.

The night changed in an instant.

The opal orb shone in the sky and in the moonlight, Y/N watched as Remus’ tall silhouette trembled, his body morphing into a werewolf.

Y/N was in awe. His body lengthened. His shoulders were hunching. Hair sprouted visibly from his head and neck and his hands curled into clawed paws. Straightening up, he howled to the sky, the sound echoing into the rest of the night.

Y/N’s mind went blank. The Marauders had transformed as she kept her eye on Remus. For a second, the werewolf’s eyes met hers, but before she could do anything, he lunged for her.

Adrenaline shot through her body as the werewolf made a swipe towards her, a big black dog jumping in between them just in time for Remus’ sharp claw to slightly graze her shoulder before she transformed with a crack, into a dove and flew up, batting her wings.

“I’ll never be able to forgive myself for that.” Remus whispered painfully, finger tracing over the small permanent scratch near Y/N’s shoulder.

“But I’m fine.” Y/N pursed her lips, eyes looking into Remus’ face imploringly. “Because I knew that it wasn’t you. And after the night ended, you cared for me so tenderly and lovingly. Gently. Because that is the real you.”

Remus soaked a warm towel for the millionth time as he sat Y/N on the toilet next to the sink to tend the small scratch she had acquired from him.

“Rem, it’s okay, do you realize that I’ve broken literal bones before! This is nothing.” Y/N said, letting him clean the patch of skin before taking both of his hands in hers. He kneeled in between her legs.

“I could never forgive myself for this, I’m so sorry-“

“Please. In the best way possible, shut up.” Y/N smiled, eyes welling up at the unnecessary look of remorse plaguing Remus’ face. “That wasn’t you. And nothing that I saw or felt last night changes who you are to me now.”

“You don’t…see me as a monster? You don’t even feel a tiny bit scared being with me right now?” Remus teared up.

Y/N smiled, eyes crinkling and letting tears fall down her cheeks. “I just feel you.”

Y/N woke up from her nap the night of the full moon to find Remus’ side of the bed empty. Eventually, she had gotten Remus to agree to let her accompany him as she always did, but in human form this time.

Getting up, she spotted Remus already at the door. She crossed her arms.

“Are you running away?” Y/N frowned, her husband jumping at getting caught.

“No, I-I figured I’d head out earlier.”

Y/N walked towards him, squeezing his shoulders.

“We talked about this. It’ll be okay.” Y/N reassured him. She saw the fear still in his eyes but he nodded, blinking some away and reaching to get Y/N’s coat for her.

They walked in the chilly night air, making their way to the Forest. Although this felt completely new, they had never done this at Hogwarts and they were expecting new results tonight, there was also a sense of déjà-vu present in the air.

Y/N had been helping Remus with every one of his transformations during their entire marriage and before, ever since she was 18. It’s been almost 13 years that they were in this together.

We're only gettin' older, baby

And I've been thinkin' about it lately

“Thank you for being here.” Remus said, squeezing her hand. “And I don’t just mean tonight.”

Y/N squeezed it back tightly, beaming at him. The moon was close to being fully out, and they stopped on a small hill overlooking Hagrid’s Hut where it would appear in full view.

Does it ever drive you crazy

Just how fast the night changes?

“Remember, if I make any sudden moves, you transform on the spot, okay?” Remus looked down at her, eyes full of conviction. Y/N nodded.

They both stood there, waiting, anticipation through the roof. They felt nauseous, from nervousness. The clouds began to fade, and more moonlight shined onto them. Slowly, they let go of each other’s hands and took a couple steps back from each other.

Everything that you've ever dreamed of

Disappearing when you wake up

The first beam of light hit Remus as the full moon emerged.

But there's nothing to be afraid of

Even when the night changes

His neck began elongating, thick hair growing from his head and covering his back. His shoulders hunched as he grew taller, breaking through the material of his clothes.

It will never change, baby

Y/N watched from a short distance as Remus morphed into a towering creature. Her incantation was ready in her head, just in case she had to transform into the dove.

It will never change, baby

Slowly, the full-fledge werewolf straightened up from its hunched over position. His eyes met Y/N’s and her body tensed, remembering. Instead of lunging at her, he sat down, his human-like eyes expressing gentleness. Y/N took a tiny step towards him.

“Remus?” She said, voice trembling.

The werewolf nodded.

Taking steps closer, she shakily got down onto her knees to join him on the ground. She lifted a hand, tentatively, and inch by inch, approached it to cup his cheek. At the contact, they both breathed out in relief.

“I just feel you.” Y/N smiled, tears flowing from her eyes.

It will never change me and you.

to be continued

a/n: as always i’d love to hear what u thought or what ud like to see of the series:)

tags @bicyhot1 @pink-hufflepuff @legitlaughingflamingo @brod16 @gerardonmyway @blueleonor @suranne-doesstuff @rxmusblxck @spxllcxstxr @littleemo477 @just12randomfandoms @svnkissdd @norrreee @m4r13l3y @jess6578 @rorysreallyrandom @the-nightingale-not-the-lark @archeve19 @wolfstarslovechild @pan-pride-12 @x4kai4x @chrrybmb-mp3 @reggieluna @happyslittlekitten @missemilygilmore @all-things-fictional @strangefirething @abitofeverythinggg @yeahshewayout @imfreeeeeee123 @harold-pothead @lunnybunny12 @ellieblack11 @tugabooos @joyfulbiscuit @justonemorechapter07 @wonderwoman292 @skateb0red @secretsthathauntus @siriusblackswhoree @sabonbonn @untraveled-road @annabeljareau @valiantobservationkitty @diffbeanofbrand @theeicedamericano @spencerreidlove @flannellover67 @wishiwasdeadric @becks7401 @katsav17 @emmy-kitty13 @purritoqueen @girl22334 @monicafebyana @talsiaa @sierrax023 @axva03 @uhh-dk @nataliahgrace

#remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #Professor Remus Lupin #professor lupin x reader #professor! reader #charmed

307 notes · View notes

spockshocked · 3 years

Text

On “This Side of Paradise”

Watching the original Star Trek many decades after it aired, I cannot help but feel as though the conclusions I draw from certain lines, scenes, and even entire episodes must not be exactly as initially intended. Despite the caginess, both in canon and in external commentary, that Roddenberry and others employ in their discussions of the nature of Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock’s relationship, and the subtext often burgeoning on text especially to a gay viewer, Spock’s perceived gayness extends beyond his ambiguous relationship with his Captain. Many of the cues that might cause a gay viewer to feel reflected by Spock come via the quirks of his Vulcan nature.

One episode which deals particularly with Spock’s internal conflict vis a vis his mixed heritage is “This Side of Paradise,” the 24th episode of the first season. Spock falls under the influence of alien spores that cause him to break down in what appears to be immense pain, before he confesses his love to a woman named Leila Kalomi, whose love for him had been unrequited for six years. Spock spends the majority of the episode under the influence of these spores, canoodling with Kalomi and giggling while hanging from a tree branch, until Kirk roughly snaps him out of it and the stoic science officer returns to himself. The spores appear to render their hosts relaxed, blissful, and dazed, an effect which can be undone through displays of strong negative emotion.

The most striking result of his time spent under the influence is the melancholy that seems to overtake him once the effect is broken. Once he has his bearings and realizes that Kirk has intentionally riled him so that the spores lose their hold, the first thing he says is:

SPOCK: The spores. They're gone. I don't belong anymore.

In the context of the episode, “belonging” is the eerie, almost cult-like description for one under the influence of the spores. Taken at face value, Spock’s comment is merely an observation that he is no longer being affected by them; Spock often makes somewhat banal comments seemingly for the benefit of the audience’s comprehension. However, this one seems to carry a double meaning. Consider Spock’s heritage: half-human and half-Vulcan, Spock constantly finds himself torn between two clashing cultures, truly “belonging” to neither. A substance that enables his full emotionality, effectively tipping the delicately balanced scales of his identity, provides a sort of relief. With the negation of its effects comes a return to the inner turmoil he experiences every moment of every day.

Spock felt like he belonged when he was able to feel and express romantic love for a woman. A simple reading of this might be that the ability to process emotion gave Spock a sense of belonging, but there is once again another, deeper analysis to be made. The assumption that gay couples would likely be commonplace by the 23rd century aside, the fact remains that the show was produced in the 1960s and there are no canon gay couples to be found. Therefore, it is possible to work within a metric where one might have a reason to remain closeted. If we approach Spock as a closeted gay man, then the female object of his affections becomes a key element in his feeling of “belonging.”

In typical Star Trek fashion, the exact effect produced by the spores is never elucidated. The implication seems to be that it provides some lowering of inhibitions and propensity for leisure. However, the spores could also be seen as pushing their hosts to pursue their ideal lives. Doctor McCoy gets notably more Southern, his accent thickening as he walks around singing the praises of the mint julep. It seems as though, while under the influence, he pursues things that remind him of the comforts of home.

Spock, however, has no such comforts. Instead, he becomes something he could never be: able to reciprocate the feelings of a beautiful young woman who has pined after him for years. Once the effect of the spores is broken, he must then break the news to her:

LEILA: I love you. I said that six years ago, and I can't seem to stop repeating myself. On Earth, you couldn't give anything of yourself. You couldn't even put your arms around me. We couldn't have anything together there. We couldn't have anything together anyplace else. We're happy here. [crying] I can't lose you now, Mister Spock. I can't.

SPOCK: I have a responsibility to this ship, to that man on the Bridge. I am what I am, Leila, and if there are self-made purgatories, then we all have to live in them. Mine can be no worse than someone else's.

Spock’s response is cool, as we have come to expect from him, but notably more candid that most of his observations about his own experiences. He starts by claiming a responsibility to not only the Enterprise, but to Kirk himself. This could be a simple declaration of loyalty to his captain, as it would almost certainly appear to Kalomi, or an allusion to some repressed feelings that would only register to him. His next line, however, carries some serious weight. “I am what I am” refers to his Vulcan heritage, but as is often the case, it could also easily be in reference to his own homosexuality. Either way, he is explaining why he is incapable of loving Kalomi; the difference is whether he is incapable of love at all, or of love for a woman. His “self-made purgatory” is both his entrapment between his Vulcan and human halves, and his repression of his sexuality.

Spock rarely speaks about his mixed heritage and the internal conflict it causes him, just as he rarely speaks of his own emotions at all, but it takes its toll on him. Briefly finding relief from this conflict only makes the return to it that much more difficult, causing him to be even more terse than usual. Kirk even points out that Spock has been quiet about the experience:

KIRK: We haven't heard much from you about Omicron Ceti III, Mr. Spock.

SPOCK: I have little to say about it, Captain, except that for the first time in my life I was happy.

Spock has spent his entire life trying and failing to completely repress his human emotions in an attempt to become fully Vulcan. When he finally has the chance to experience them in full, he breaks down in pain at the wave of repressed emotions before he finally experiences untainted joy “for the first time.” However, that is not his authentic self either. Neither a logical Vulcan nor an emotional human, he is eternally trapped between worlds, and was only able to find joy in a brief and unattainable fantasy. He is so discontent with his own nature that he cannot be happy as he is.

To a closeted viewer, this final line of the episode, delivered as dryly as always, is heartbreaking. The first time in Spock’s life that he was happy was when he ignored an integral part of himself that brought him pain in order to live a moment of a life that he could never have. To those who have repressed their sexuality, convincing themselves that they felt attraction to those of another sex because it was what would make them belong, watching Spock find joy in this fantasy only to be crushed when he must return to reality is painfully familiar.

Analysis of Spock and Kirk’s relationship is generally sufficient to read them as a gay couple. When Spock is viewed in isolation, however, he still comes across as gay to many viewers. Spock’s innate perceived gayness relies not on his attraction to men, but on his repression of his true self and of the emotions that he cannot bring himself to face. While chalked up by the show to his half-Vulcan heritage, it still strikes a chord in a very human gay viewer.

#star trek #tos #this side of paradise #analysis #spock #gay spock #spirk #mine #yes this is a paper i wrote for fun

275 notes · View notes

itsallyscorner · 3 years

Text

Blindsided

Pairing: Sam Wilson x reader

Summary: What happens after it’s announced that John Walker’s the new Captain America.

Warnings: none; a bit suggestive at the end? This is my first time writing for Sam so if it’s a bit meh, I’m sorry, I tried😭 Lots of dialogue!!

A/n: This is a bit of a short one, but I hope you like it:) I know this isn’t how he found out in TFAWS but ya know :D Also hate the character NOT the actor, don’t hate on Wyatt Russell😤

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

“Look, here’s the thing, uh, I’m—I’m not Tony Stark. I’m not Dr. Banner. Okay? I don’t have the flashiest gadgets, I don’t have super strength. But what I do have—is guts.”

John Walker’s voice bounces off the walls of the cozy Louisiana apartment you and Sam shared. With the saved money you both had, you guys managed to purchase a decent apartment. Being two of the known remaining Avengers, your landlord was quite flexible with rent. Having the two of you in his building was like having built in security.

The apartment was just right for you and Sam. There was a living room, a kitchen, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. You both didn’t need much. As long as you had each other, you were both satisfied. Besides, with Sam working with the Air Force on missions, you managed to get roped into following along—which meant you two weren’t always home.

The morning sun shined through the window of your living room, reflecting onto one of the white walls across from it. The sun created an orangey yellow hue to fill the room, radiating the warmth and cozy aura of a sunny Louisiana morning. Though compared to the domestic and calming aura, Sam was the complete opposite. You couldn’t see his facial expressions but the way his shoulders tensed from behind was enough to tell you that he was upset.

After a week (I’m honestly not sure) of donating Steve’s shield to the Smithsonian, it’s been revealed that the government has taken the shield and handed it to some—in your eyes—Steve Rogers wannabe. As someone who’s worked alongside Steve and consider him as family, it angered you to see some random man parade around the world with Steve’s shield and title. This Walker dude has no clue of the responsibility and value that comes with the shield—like seriously using halftime of a football game as an opportunity to pull a PR stunt as Captain America? He’s literally just America’s mascot.

Though you were bubbling with anger, you couldn’t imagine how your boyfriend felt. Steve gave him the shield, passed down the role of Captain America to him and sent him off to fulfill the duties he couldn’t do anymore. Yes, Sam made a promise, but after dabbling with the thought of becoming the new Captain America he decided to give it up. You weren’t going to question him, it was his choice and you understood why he made it. Nobody could fill Steve’s shoes.

You turn the stove off, deciding to check on Sam instead of continuing breakfast. The clip of John Walker was still playing on the tv when you enter the living room. You get a glimpse of his face, betrayal filled his eyes as he glowered at the tv screen. You carefully make your way towards him, settling beside him on the couch. He glances at you before shoving his head in his hand.

“Sam...” You wrap an arm around his back, your palm feeling the tension build between his shoulders.

“He trusted me with the shield.” He began, his voice low. “He trusted me with it and now it’s in the hands of—whoever this person is.” He gestures to the tv that showed John Walker speaking to a blonde interviewer.

“Steve believed in me to carry on his legacy and I just threw it away because I was being selfish.” He fumed, his tone raising. He shot off the couch and moved to pace around the living room. You sigh, giving him a moment to get his thoughts together. You patiently waited for him to calm down, watching him mutter sentences to himself under his breath.

Slowly, you get up from the couch and approach him. Deciding to stand in the way of his path, he comes to a halt. The conflicted expression on his face softens at the sight of you.

“Listen,” You start, arms snaking around his torso while his hands naturally grip onto your hips. “You didn’t know the government was going to go behind your back and deem someone else as Captain America. None of us were expecting this to happen. You can’t beat yourself up for something you didn’t have control of.”

Sam breathes out and tries to move out of your arms. Betrayal and guilt consumed his body.

“That’s the thing, (y/n). If I hadn’t given up the shield in the first place, we wouldn’t even be in this situation right now. I had control of all of this, even if I didn’t know about their hidden agenda.” He bursted out, brows furrowing together in frustration. You tighten your arms around him.

Sam defeatedly lowers his head, “This whole thing is so much more than me being blindsided by the government. I promised Steve that I’ll do my best. He trusted me and in return I broke my promise to him. I let Steve down.” He confessed. Silence filled the room, the only sounds heard were the quiet murmurs coming from the tv.

You were the first to speak. “Steve made mistakes too you know? Besides being a super soldier and all, it’s what made him relatable to everyone. Before he became Captain America, he was just like us. Humans who wanted to do good for the world and bring peace to its chaos.” Your words caught Sam’s attention, although he was a bit confused to where you were going with them.

You continued, “Like almost every human in the world, he learned from those mistakes. Yes, you may have had control of the current situation we’re in, but that doesn’t contradict the fact that you had no knowledge of what was happening behind the scenes. Steve chose to give you the shield for a reason, Sam. He knew that if something were to go wrong, you would be there in an instant to make it right.”

You shifted closer to him and cradled his jaw with both of your hands. “You gave up the shield and now it’s in the hands of the wrong man. I know you’ve always said that it feels like it belongs to someone else. But would you rather it be in the hands of someone like John Walker or in the hands of someone Steve believes in? Are you gonna sit here and feel guilty about it or are you going to get up and make things right?”

Sam’s eyes bore into yours. Conflict flashes in his dark orbs, his jaw clenches, and his hands resting on your hips gripped onto your skin tightly.

“We’re gonna get his shield back.” He proclaimed.

A small smile forms on your lips, “One way or another.” You confirm.

Bonus:

“You know, you’re getting good at that whole speech thing.” Sam remarks, pulling you closer to him. That infamous toothy grin of his taking over his features.

You chuckle letting your hands venture on the expanse of his chest before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Well I learned from the best. If there’s one thing I learned from Steve it’d have to be his way with words.” You shrugged. Sam hummed in response.

“If I’m gonna be getting that shield back, I’m gonna be needing some help on those speeches.” He says, a suggestive tone to his sentence.

You smirked, amusingly shaking your head at him. “Good think I know plenty of ways to get you to talk.” Sam takes that as his cue to connect his lips with yours. His eager hands wander your body as he leads you towards the couch.

Before things can escalate, you pull away and place a finger in between your and Sam’s lips.

“Not now hotshot, we’ve got a mission in a bit and we still need to stop by Sarah’s before we leave.” Sam doesn’t get the chance to object since you’ve already pushed him off of you. Your hips swayed as you made your way back into the kitchen to continue cooking breakfast.

He stutters at first but chases after you going on about how much of a tease you were and how unfair it was to him and his needs.

“I told you I had plenty of ways to get you to talk.” You smirk, innocently shrugging at him.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Tags ↴

*if there’s a line through your username, it doesn’t work*

Besties who wanted a Sam Fic

↪︎ @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @persphnn @fangirl-swagg @pixieyosi @loveyhoneydovey @agentmalfoy24601 @rebthom89 @stardustofreading @speedycatbluebird @comicshoplife

General Tags

↪︎ @quxxnxfhxll @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @thegirlwiththediary @agustdowney @bi-lmg @rqmanoff @sesamepancakes

#marvel #mcu #avengers #tfaws #the falcon and winter soldier #Sam Wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson one shot #Sam Wilson blurb #Anthony Mackie #anthony mackie imagine #anthony mackie x reader #the falcon #avengers x reader

252 notes · View notes

thinkingisadangerouspastime · 3 years

Text

Love of My Life

It was then Katara’s turn to stare up at the fiery sky, the multitude of clouds glowing in red and orange glory. “Aang,” she murmured, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. “Please.”

After the final battle, Katara and Aang reunite.

(Written for Day 3 of Kataang Week 2021: Missing Scenes/Post-Canon, hosted by @kataang-week. Read here on AO3, or continue reading below.)

Azula was taken away at some point, maybe by the Fire Sages, but her bloodcurdling screams and broken sobs were hardly a pinprick at the back of Katara’s mind as she kept her attention trained to the lightning wound blasted across Zuko’s solar plexus. Her hands glowed with the water she was continuously pulling from the now-burst piping system in the courtyard around them. She had no enhanced spirit water as with Aang, but fortunately Zuko’s injury was less severe and—thanks to her quick defeat of Azula—no longer life-threatening.

Zuko winced, and guilt flashed through Katara’s stomach for silently dismissing his pain. “Sorry.” She moved the water further upward on his chest, over a spot where the skin was more blistered. “Better?”

A low hiss escaped Zuko’s lips as the cool liquid skimmed the wound, and he managed a weak nod. “Thanks.” His voice was raspier than usual. To be expected. “For this, and for… and for stopping Azula.”

The urge to laugh rose in Katara’s throat, which she immediately suppressed because Tui and La, what was wrong with her? How was now an appropriate time for laughter? “Well, you’re welcome,” she said instead, giving him a weary smile, “but next time, how about you don’t taunt her about the lack of lightning, hmm?”

Zuko grimaced, and Katara knew that particular reaction had nothing to do with the wound across his chest. “Let’s just hope there will never be a next time.”

Katara couldn’t argue with that.

The following minutes were quiet as Katara slowly moved the water up, down, and around Zuko’s injury, her hands themselves hovering less than an inch above his chest. While she knew it was only a figment of her imagination, Katara could’ve sworn there was still blue lightning—Azula’s lightning—flickering across the wound, sparking at her fingertips and prickling across her skin.

Maybe, then, it was this lingering remnant of the Avatar’s slayer that had Katara so on edge. Maybe that was the reason why tension still thrummed through her body despite that she and Zuko were safe now, despite that they’d won.

“He’s going to come back.”

Zuko’s words broke the heavy silence, startling Katara so badly her concentration flew out the figurative window. The water around her hands lost its glow and splattered across Zuko’s chest like she’d emptied a full bucket on top of him. Frantic apologies spilled from her lips as she bent the water off his upper body with similar haste, but Zuko—wincing—pushed himself into a sitting position before she could begin the healing process again.

“Zuko, what are you—”

“Aang is going to come back,” he repeated, staring at Katara with an intensity that probably shouldn’t have been possible for someone in his grievously injured state. A testament to her healing skills, truly, and also to Zuko’s general stubbornness.

“I know he will,” Katara said after a pause, bending the water she’d again collected around her hands into the leather waterskin that hung at her hip. “If memory serves, I was the one telling you that on our way here.”

Zuko chuckled. “I know. Sorry. You just seemed like…” His eyes flickered across her face, searching for vulnerability Katara refused to bare. “Like you needed the reminder.”

Katara sighed, not meeting his gaze. “Look. I know Aang will come back. I know he’ll win.” Spirits, maybe he had won already. “I mean, he’s the only one who can. But I guess I’m still—” Katara cut herself off with another sigh, blinking back exhausted tears. “Fine, you’re right. I guess I’m still worried.”

Aang would return victorious, yes, there was no doubt in her mind. But at what cost? What price would he have been forced to pay? Sacrificing his body through the loss of a limb? Sacrificing his soul through the loss of that which his people valued above all else? Katara knew, she knew that if anyone could stop Ozai without killing him, it was Aang. But what she didn’t know was—was how.

Spirits, Katara wouldn’t be able to handle it if Aang returned to her broken in a way she couldn’t heal. She’d already witnessed him die once, watched his body go limp as life left it. She wasn’t ready to watch his spirit disappear, wasn’t ready to watch hope leave his heart, too.

Zuko opened his mouth, presumably to offer more words of comfort to her, but he was interrupted by Appa’s body stiffening—the sky bison was so large it was impossible not to notice the reaction. He’d originally been standing guard, for all intents and purposes, while Katara healed Zuko, but now his eyes were glued to the sky as he released a bellow that shook the stone of the courtyard beneath them.

Katara grabbed Zuko’s arm to keep him from toppling over, but instead of resettling himself, Zuko tried to stand up, as if the giant wound on his chest was nothing more than a mere papercut.

“It’s Aang!” was the only explanation he gave as Katara relented with a huff and helped him to his feet. “It has to be. What else would get Appa acting like this?”

Privately, Katara agreed with him. Hope beat in her heart so rapidly it ached. But since Zuko had wildly, unexpectedly, completely out of the blue transformed into an optimist—seriously, had the lightning gone through his brain?—well, that meant she had to be the one to temper his optimism with a little realism.

“It could be a threat,” she responded honestly, not releasing Zuko’s arm until she was certain he’d gathered his balance.

Zuko shot her a doubtful look. “You sure?” He pointed at Appa, whose tail had started shaking—okay, yes, probably with excitement, Katara would admit that much.

It was then her turn to stare up at the fiery sky, the multitude of clouds glowing in red and orange glory. “Aang,” she murmured, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. “Please.”

Seconds later, those otherworldly clouds split open to reveal a Fire Nation airship, and on the exterior Katara could see flashes of blue and green fabric—Sokka and Toph, it had to be. Spirits knew she probably should have been concerned about who was steering the balloon, but once it was clear the ship was heading steadily towards the ground and wouldn’t face a disastrous crash, Katara’s mind returned to its previous mantra.

Aang. Aang. Aang.

“Remember to breathe, Katara.”

Katara shot Zuko a mild glare at his wry tone, but exhaled, because he was right—she’d been holding her breath. In fact, she was still holding far more tension in her body than could be considered healthy, but Katara knew that overwhelming stiffness wasn’t going to ease until she saw her friends alive and well, until she felt Aang’s heartbeat in sync against her own.

Katara’s breath hitched as the airship came to a stop far from herself and Zuko, hovering above the stone ground of the courtyard. It was much larger up close—no wonder it couldn’t land properly. There was a deep rattle as a metal plank, of sorts, some kind of steel pathway lowered from the ship and scraped across the ground with an earsplitting screech. Onto it stepped—

“They’re alive!” Katara gasped, blinking back elated tears as Sokka, Aang, Toph, and Suki—and Momo atop Suki’s left shoulder—stepped out onto the platform. One of Sokka’s legs was in a splint and he had to lean onto Suki’s side for support as he hobbled along, but— “They’re all alive!”

Aang was alive.

They’d done it. A little bruised, a little broken, maybe all around worse for wear, but—

They’d done it.

“Come on,” Zuko urged, taking an unsteady step forward and immediately wincing. He didn’t let the pain stop him, though, powering another foot ahead. “Let’s meet them halfway.”

Katara rolled her eyes, ducking under Zuko’s arm to brace him against her side, careful to avoid his injury. “Idiot.” Standing on his own was one thing, but walking by himself was an entirely different matter. She could already tell Zuko was the kind of person who made a terrible patient.

But Katara walked with him all the same, slow and steady. As they got closer, she could better see the physical state her friends were in. Toph had only a few scrapes across her arms and face. Same for Suki. Sokka had clearly done a number on his leg, as he was hardly putting any weight on it despite the well-made split, and not to mention that Suki continued to brace him while he walked. Aang was—

“Appa!”

Well, Aang was getting smothered by Appa, Katara noted with silent amusement as the sky bison practically tackled Aang to the ground, nuzzling and licking him with unabashed eagerness.

“Buddy, I’m okay!” Aang managed to wheeze out amidst his laughter, giving Appa a tight hug. “I’m okay, I promise.”

He seemed to be telling the truth, at least based on what Katara could discern from afar. His orange robes were torn to oblivion, with only his Fire Nation pants remaining. She could see minor burns across his chest and one area on the left side of his ribs that looked to her like it would become a painful bruise, but overall—

“If you guys are here with no Azula,” Sokka joked as they all came to a stop, snapping Katara’s attention away from Aang, “does that mean Zuko finally gets to rule the Fire Nation?”

Katara allowed Zuko to keep some of his weight on her even as they stood still. He laughed at her brother’s comment. “Katara’s the one who technically defeated her in the Agni Kai. Maybe that makes her the Fire Lord.”

Katara groaned and rolled her eyes, ignoring the amused snickers of her friends. “Tui and La, no. I refuse. I resign. I—I abdicate. The throne is all yours, Zuko.”

She turned her attention to her brother’s injured leg as Suki began recounting the details of their battle in the air, including how they’d managed to pilfer an airship of their own. Up close, Katara was relieved to see that no bone had broken through the skin in Sokka’s shin or thigh—that would have made it much harder for her to heal. She made sure Zuko was stable on his feet before stepping away to study the injury further. But as she crouched at Sokka’s side and went to bend water out her flask for the preliminary healing process—

“Hey. That can wait.”

Katara blinked, staring up at Sokka in utter confusion. “Excuse me?” His leg was broken, she couldn’t just—

Sokka jerked his head towards Aang, who was busy freeing himself from beneath Appa’s weight. “Go greet the hero of the hour. My leg will still be here when you get back.”

Toph snorted. “Of the hour?” She shook her head. “Give him credit, Sokka—Twinkle Toes is the hero of the century.” Momo chirped before jumping from Suki’s shoulder onto Toph’s, as if agreeing with her.

Katara turned to look at Aang, her mind tuning out the rest of her friend’s teasing banter that followed. He was—Aang was more than the hero of the century, at least to her. More than the Avatar, more than an airbender, more than—

Aang must have felt her eyes on him, because he paused in petting Appa to turn around and give her a shy grin. “Hi, Katara.”

With those two words, the dam burst, and Katara sprinted over to Aang with all the speed of a roaring wave. Her arms crashed around his bare shoulders like water beating against the shore, and Aang wrapped his arms around her waist in return. Katara could only squeeze him tighter, his face pressing into her shoulder.

“You stopped him,” Katara whispered. Her words were shaky, or—spirits, maybe it was her entire body that was quivering. “Ozai. You stopped him.”

Aang nodded into her shoulder, and Katara slackened her grip just enough so he could lean back and reply. “Yep.”

Katara’s right hand instinctively rose to cup his face. She could see it in his eyes—tired, yes, but still so full of hope, the warm gray as rich as the shimmering moon. “You found another way, didn’t you?”

Aang smiled at her, laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes, and spirits if that wasn’t an image Katara wanted traced into her memory for the rest of time. “Ozai is alive. But he can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Katara had a million questions, the first being the obvious How? How did you do it? But no query fell from her lips despite her overwhelming curiosity. Instead, all she could do was stare at Aang, tears of relief sliding down her cheeks as she smiled and smiled and smiled and—

“I am so proud of you,” Katara said, the words halfway to a sob as she pulled Aang into another crushing hug, marvelling at how perfectly his body fit against hers. “I knew you would do it, Aang, I knew it. Only you could.”

Aang laughed. “Must’ve been your belief that got me through it.” His arms tightened around her, as if he, too, needed the unspoken reassurance that Katara was there, that she was real, that they had won, the same way she needed such comfort from him. “At one point, I’m not even sure I believed I’d succeed.”

“It’s a good thing I never doubted you, then,” Katara whispered, and Aang laughed again.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Katara wasn’t quite sure what Aang was thanking her for—her faith then, her presence now?—and in truth, she had a feeling Aang didn’t precisely know, either. But what did precision matter? They were here, together, alive. Beaten and bruised but not broken beyond all repair. Neither of them had lost what they couldn’t live without.

For Aang, the vestiges of his peaceful people. And for her…

Aang.

Katara hadn’t lost Aang. Not like she had before, not like she couldn’t bear to ever lose him again.

“Alright, lovebirds! That’s enough time spent hugging the life out of each other. Come tend to the wounded, please.”

Katara rolled her eyes at her brother’s obnoxious interruption, but she released Aang after a final tight squeeze. She really did want to take a look at Sokka’s leg. Besides—she and Aang now had all the time in the world. All the time in a peaceful world, at that.

Aang followed her back to the rest of their friends, and Katara had just knelt down to examine Sokka’s injury when Aang burst out into loud, unprovoked laughter. The sudden sound made her jump, and it was only thanks to some quick thinking—and inelegant bending—that she avoided spilling the water from her waterskin all over the stone courtyard for the second time in the past ten minutes.

“What’s so funny?” Zuko asked, the apparent reason for Aang’s laughter. “What did I do?”

“No—you didn’t—” Aang cut himself off with a wheeze, and Katara couldn’t stop herself from glancing behind her to see what on Earth had him in stitches.

Aang pointed at Zuko’s chest, biting down hard on his bottom lip in a clear attempt to withhold further laughter. “That. Azula shot you with lightning, right?” When Zuko nodded, he said, “And Katara healed you?”

“I did,” Katara confirmed. Sokka gave her a disapproving look, probably because she was yet to begin healing his leg, but—well, this time Katara had no real excuse beyond her own intrigue. Whoops. But it wasn’t as if his splint wasn’t holding up perfectly. The expertise with which it was secured suggested Suki had been the one to fashion it, and that meant Sokka would be fine for a quick moment longer.

Aang’s laughter returned in full force, one arm wrapped around his stomach while his free hand gestured wildly behind him. “We—We match!” He turned around, and—

“Oh, for Agni’s sake,” Zuko groaned, and Katara found herself unable to contain her laughter. In a matter of seconds, they were all laughing at Aang’s revelation. Even Zuko, once he’d gotten over himself.

Tui and La. Katara loved her friends, she loved her life, she loved being alive with her friends by her side and—

Aang.

She loved Aang.

Oh, spirits.

#kataang #kataangtag #kataang week #katara #aang #atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko #atla fanfic #the gaang #amy writes

90 notes · View notes